The Coachwhip
by Scorpio Grudge
Summary: Hermione returns home to visit her parents and takes along a guest.
1. The Coachwhip

The Coachwhip 

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

_Go home, Hermione. Go see your parents._

_I don't want to. This is more important; they're fine._

_Of course, but they're frightened for your safety. You should see them, spend some time with them._

She had sighed and shook her head. Her parents, once the war against Voldemort had broken loose, had become so mistrustful of the wizarding world, they had wanted her to withdraw from it completely. How could she leave everything she loved behind? Everything... and everybody. 

_They don't like you. They don't trust--_

He had kissed her then, leaving her objections behind. _I know. See them._ He had cupped her face in one hand. _Don't worry._

Against her better judgment, she had agreed to take a brief respite from her job with the Ministry to visit her parents. It would only be a week defending her choices to them, and then she would return. As many others, she was no great fan of the Ministry political machine, but she liked her job. Though results were not often easy to come by, she knew she was making a difference. 

Charms, transfiguration, potions, hexes, defense, anything they needed. If Hermione didn't know it already, she could find it, she could learn it. In many cases, just knowing where to look, understanding the history of it all, being able to look at things from the point of all the different disciplines helped as much as any one master. 

There was art in being a master of Transfiguration or Charms, but there was art in being able to analyze those things too. Hermione had her niche, and no one had been able to wedge her out of it. That was the thing that allowed her to steadfastly resist her parents' efforts to return her to the Muggle world. 

Taking a deep breath, tightening her grip on her suitcase as the worn leather handle slipped in her sweaty hand, Hermione rang the bell. 

The door opened almost immediately, and she was greeted by the sight of her mother. Familiarity washed over Hermione, and though she steeled herself against their disparaging words, a smile grew very easily on her lips. "Mum," she said quietly. 

"Oh, Hermione, we're so glad you decided to visit for a bit," Roselyn Granger, who would always be Mum to Hermione no matter their ages, said brightly. "Come in, of course. This is still your home. I've just started some tea, and if you're hungry--" 

"Tea would be lovely, but I'm afraid I've already eaten at ho--" No, this was her parents house now, not her home. Her home now was outside of Hogsmeade. Home... where her heart was. "I've already eaten." 

Mum's smile faltered, but didn't fail. "Oh, well, just some tea then. Why don't you settle yourself, freshen up a bit first. Your old room will suit, won't it?" 

"Of course." Hermione's smile was completely genuine at the thoughts of her room. Her sanctuary. She wondered how much it had been changed, how much she had changed. Mum stepped aside, and Hermione entered the house. "It's... good to be back," she said, and gave her mother an awkward, one-armed hug. "It's good to see you." 

"You don't know how much we worry about you," Mum whispered, returning the hug painfully. 

As awkwardly as the hug was administered, it was released, and Mum's cheeks had a few tears on them. "Well, you go on and freshen up. I'll call you when tea's done." 

Hermione's smile had waned slightly, but she wouldn't get annoyed the first moments she was there when she had to spend the entire week. "Thanks, Mum." It was important to control her reactions, not get overly defensive. When that happened, her parents just got more insistent that she was in danger. They didn't realize... 

"Roger, Hermione's home! Come say hello." 

"That's not necessary. He's probably busy, and I look a mess," Hermione insisted, and began smoothing down her hair with her free hand. As if Apparation ever mussed it. 

Mum just tsked and ushered her in as the door was closed. The latch engaging sounded very final in Hermione's ears. How could this house, these people be so intimidating now, when she was an adult? 

"Hermione?" Dad's voice came from the sitting room. A creak of that old chair that had been his favorite since Hermione could remember. "I didn't expect you so soon," he said as he entered the foyer. He gave her a bear hug. "How have you been?" 

"She needs to freshen up, Roger. She's just gotten here." 

"It's incidental small talk, Rose. I'm sure Hermione can do that without needing to put on a fresh coat of lipstick." Dad gave her a conspiratorial wink, and Hermione couldn't help but grin back. 

Some things never changed. 

"I don't," Hermione said, breaking up the debate, "but my bag is starting to get heavy." 

"Right, right. We'll catch up on things over tea, shall we?" Dad said, and placed his hand on her shoulder. 

It was a comforting weight, but Hermione wasn't quite ready to let her guard down. "I'll be back down shortly," she said, trying to sound as chipper as possible though dread was starting to bloom in her belly, and made for the stairs. 

The second stair from the top still creaked. For some reason, she expected things to change every time she visited the house. That nick in the banister would be gone, the stair would be fixed, all the little things that she had grown up with... It would have been strange if they had been gone, but she also realized how odd it was that they were still there. The house was... static, unchanging. She didn't find that encouraging. 

The same was true of her room. It was still the same, and she cringed at how immature it seemed now. Oh, yes, when she had still been in school, it had been very adult. Or so she had thought, but now... In a way, it was embarrassing to see the money her parents had spent on her. Money spent that was now just going to waste in this room. Hermione frowned before she closed the door behind her and set her suitcase on the too-small dresser. 

She opened it and retrieved her brush. Her hair had transformed from the bushy mass in childhood to a thick and glossy mane now. She prided herself in it, and was almost obsessed with its care. Sighing softly to herself, beginning a familiar ritual, she sat down at the simple, old-fashioned vanity she had used for a better portion of her life, and began to brush. 

*******

Though spending time with her parents frustrated her, Hermione went to bed that night and forced the tension from her body. This was not her home now, but her bed was so pleasantly familiar, she easily allowed it to escort her to sleep. A sleepy chuckle escaped as she considered that she had never gone to bed in the kind of dress she was currently in. Staid little nightgowns had been her evening stable, not lace or satin. 

Yet, lace and satin was no replacement for whose embrace she wished for that evening. Thoughts of him firmly in mind so she would dream of him, she relaxed, slowed her breathing, and drifted to sleep. 

Some point in the night, while Hermione remained in the grip of Morpheus, movement occurred in her suitcase. It was slight, and would have been hardly noticeable to anything outside an owl. 

From underneath the clothes that were carefully folded, a sleek, black head emerged. It tested the air with its sensitive tongue, then emerged further, coming over the lip of the case. For a moment, it hung there, testing the air, then began to lower itself to the floor. 

Black gave way to dark brown, and 130 centimeters later, it was on the floor and headed for the bed. It easily lifted its whip-like body up to the level of the mattress, slipping under the covers, and continued until it was completely concealed. 

Slowly, it slipped along Hermione's bare skin, venturing up and over her leg repeatedly until it draped completely over it. It stilled when Hermione shifted suddenly; if she rolled to her side, it would be crushed. Yet, with a simple incoherent mumble, she stilled, and the snake continued its journey. 

Across the lace of her panties it moved, its tongue flickering rapidly with keen interest. It paused at her bellybutton, its nose under her satin camisole, but retreated slightly. Free of the camisole, it continued upward until it was at her neck. Pulse steady and strong, so warm, it would have been simple enough to sleep there, but not yet. 

Across her throat, up to her ear, and there, with its tongue testing the delicate flesh of her lobe, it waited. 

"Did you enjoy hiding in my underwear?" Hermione said suddenly, no longer asleep. 

A slight shift, and he was there, breathing seductively in her ear, his lips poised to begin nibbling. "I enjoy everything in your underwear." He nibbled then, one long-fingered hand exploring the exposed flesh of her midrift. 

"My parents are right down the hall." 

"Then don't scream." 

She turned her head, pulling her ear free of mouth, and kissed him, taking control of his mouth. Though the kiss was heated, their tongues engaged tenderly until they had to pause to take breath. 

"You like it more when I try not to scream," Hermione said, smiling now while her eyes smouldered with desire 

"Merlin's beard, yes." 

"Make me not scream, Severus." 

**End**

[AN: A coachwhip is, of course, a kind of snake. Very long, 127 - 200+ cm, thin and whip-like. They are fast on the ground, agile climbers, non-venomous, and harmless to humans.] 


	2. The Coachwhip's Reprise

The Coachwhip's Reprise 

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Reprise

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

"Back to my underwear with you." The snake curled more tightly around her arm, and Hermione smiled. "Yes, I knew you'd like that. I'll bring some breakfast up for you." She held out her arm to her open suitcase, and the snake uncoiled to slide gracefully onto her clothing. Hermione stroked its head affectionately before leaving the room. 

The snake watched her go, then sequestered itself in the safety of her clothing. 

*******

Roselyn Granger was a Muggle and certainly not afraid to admit it. Her daughter was a witch, and she wasn't afraid to admit that either, as long as it wasn't to other Muggles. 

But she didn't like it. She didn't like the news she heard about a magical war that her only daughter was involved in. And though Hermione assured her that the Ministry was a perfectly safe place to be working, Roselyn Granger had come to hate the wizarding world as well. 

Her daughter, in a war! As much as she would have liked to support Hermione, it was too difficult. No, she wanted Hermione back home, out of the wizarding world, and settled with a nice, normal boy. Why, already she was falling back into the old habits even though her daughter was very much an adult now. 

But.... just to have her little girl back for a week... Hermione wouldn't mind too terribly. 

She listened at the top of the stairs and heard Hermione speaking to Roger. Laughter. Yes, Hermione could be happy here with them; no need to go back. Footsteps mere whispers, she went to the door of Hermione's room and opened it. Just cleaning it up a bit; doing a little something for her daughter. 

Not that it needed it. The room was immaculate, as Hermione has always kept it. The suitcase though... It was open, but clothes were still tucked in it. That wouldn't do, not for the entire week. 

Lips pursed in motherly dissatisfaction, Roselyn Granger began to relocate her daughter's clothing from the suitcase to the dresser, one article at a time. Not aloud, but in her mind she appraised each piece. Very adult, very... un-Hermione as far as she was concerned. Never would she have imagined her daughter in clothes like these. 

Slowly the suitcase emptied out and the dresser filled. This was something Roselyn was used to, very... domestic. Motherly. She missed doing motherly things. 

She lifted a black, silken shirt and stifled a scream. Beneath the shirt, at the very bottom of the suitcase, was a pair of the most scandalous underwear she had ever seen. And curled atop, around, and through that pair of... of... loose woman's underwear was a giant black snake. 

Even as she stared in horror, the head of the monster emerged--and she just could NOT believe where it had been tucked--and looked at her with those hideous black orbs. Its tongue flickered once, and afraid it might strike at her, she took a step back. 

Strike it did not. It simply retreated back into... 

"HERMIONE PORTIA GRANGER!" 

Downstairs, Hermione winced. "Severus, what did you do?" she mumbled quietly as her father looked at her strangely. 

Hermione hurried up the stairs and froze in the doorway to her room. She covered her mouth with her hand, but it was not in horror. Desperately she tried to stifle her giggles. 

Her mother was standing there, one of her dull brown shoes in her hand, with a stunned look on her face. 

At the other end of the shoe-in-hand was Severus, looking very sour indeed. The shoe was resting against his head. As her underwear was also on his head, she could just imagine what had happened, and finally gave up trying to hold back her laughter. 

**TBC**


	3. The Coachwhip's Dilemma

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Dilemma

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Hermione's laughter died as the other two occupants of the room looked at her, each with something less than charity in their eyes. "Uh... something wrong, Mum?" she asked innocently. 

"Young lady, I think you know very well that something's wrong. I would like you to explain this!" She pointed one slender and well-manicured finger at Severus. 

"It's a him, Mum, not a 'this'." Hermione was trying very hard to remain perfectly calm and not cringe or giggle or get annoyed. She felt quite ready to do all three at once. Her eyes caught the twitch of Severus' hand, and the sudden appearance of his wand in it. She shook her head slightly. 

Mum was a sight more observant than given credit and noticed it. Eyes narrowed, she looked back at the mysterious man in her daughter's bedroom, wearing a pair of her daughter's very indecent underwear on his head. "Don't you dare try any of your magic on me; I'll call the police." 

"Mum!" 

"Don't you Mum me, Hermione. I want an explanation." Her eyes didn't leave Severus. "First I find all these horrible clothes in your suitcase, and then a snake--a snake!--in there, and it turns into this man! What in the devil is going on?" 

That urge to laugh again that Hermione put her mental foot on the neck of and twisted. "Mum, settle down. There's nothing to be afraid of. This is... is..." 

"Tell her, Hermione," Severus said, and he arched one eyebrow at the shocked Mrs. Granger as one corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. 

"Rose? Hermione?" 

"Dad, I--" 

"Roger--" 

"_Obliviate_!" 

It was little more than a hiss of breath, but Hermione's father had proved to be the distraction needed. 

"Severus!" Hermione hissed, and glared at him as her mother stood there. Her eyes were very distant, and she swayed dangerously. "I told you not to do that!" 

"She's unharmed. Don't concern yourself it. Remember who the bad guy is here." 

"Stop smirking at me. I'm not happy." Hermione pursed her lips and put on her best 'I'm not happy' look. 

His smirk didn't move an inch. "I can change that." 

"Rose? What's with all the shouting." At the top of the stairs now. 

With the grace of a dancer, Hermione slid to Severus' side and put her arm around him. "Fine, leave it to me to fix everything. Change." In an instant, the man next to her was replaced by a snake draped carelessly over her arm. With her right hand, she plucked the underwear fluttering to the floor out of the air and tossed it across the room and out of sight. "It's nothing, Dad," Hermione said loudly. "Mum just got a bit of a scare. I should have warned her." 

Her father appeared in the doorway, looking confused and slightly concerned. "Warned her of what?" 

"This." Holding out her arm, Hermione displayed her snake. 

"Dear God! Hermione, that's--" 

"Completely harmless. Don't worry. Mum just found him in my suitcase and had a bit of a scare. He's non-venomous, and completely tame." She smiled sweetly at her father. _Unless your name is Harry Potter._

Her father looked unconvinced. "That is a snake, Hermione." 

"Yes, I know, Dad. He's very gentle; there's nothing to worry about." She ran her fingers over the head and down the body. 

"Oh." Still not convinced, her father stood next to her mother and took her arm gently. "You should have told us, brought it in a cage, Hermione." 

"I couldn't keep him in a cage! That would be worse than keeping Crookshanks in a cage!" 

The utter horror of such a notion must have been very clear on her face, as her father relented immediately. "Yes, but you should have told us, Hermione. Look at your mother; she's in shock." He put the back of his hand to his wife's cheek. "Rose? Rose, speak to me. It was just Hermione's pet snake." 

It took incredible control to not grin widely. Pet snake indeed. 

"Roger? I'm... not feeling so well," she answered faintly, and clutched at his arm. 

"Come along, love. I'll get you some tea." Roger Granger--a name he never liked and never forgave his parents for--started to lead his wife out. "Don't let your mother see that thing again, Hermione," he warned and gave her a very stern look. 

"Of course." Hermione waited until she heard the sound of her parents going slowly down the stairs, and held the snake up to eye level. "Just fantastic. Did you see his face? He thinks I'm crazy now." 

The snake stretched out and flickered its tongue, just barely touching the end of her nose. 

"Being cute's not going to get you out of this so easily. I'll have a lot of patching up to do." Hermione often thought that, with Crookshanks and the things Severus tried to get away with as a snake, she was being prepared for motherhood. She grinned. "Oh, I see now what you're doing," she said suddenly. This would get him good. 

The snake flickered its tongue again and actually cocked its head to one side. 

"Yes, very clever, but you know I'm on to your tricks now. I'm sure you can see that I'm more than capable, so if you want children, you just have to say so. No need to test my mothering abilities with this childish behavior of yours." Hermione had never seen a snake look stunned until that moment. "And now," she continued, very pleased with herself, "let's get you tucked away. Don't want any more shoes to come crashing down on you." 

Hermione retrieved the underwear she had tossed away, and tucked it away in the bottom drawer of the dresser. "You should be safe in there. I'll leave it open. Just don't get caught." She allowed the reptile to slide gracelessly from her arm and land in a tangled heap on the clothing in the drawer. "Stay," she said sternly, but with a smirk. 

*******

Lunch was something of a terse affair, but as no real harm had been done--aside from altering her mother's memory, dammit, Severus--her parents were willing to get over this little snake problem. 

"I'm really sorry I didn't say anything. I had forgotten he was even there, and I really didn't expect anyone to be going through my suitcase." Hermione cast a gently accusing look at her mother. 

"I wasn't going through your suitcase, dear. I was putting away your clothes. Don't be tetchy; it's not flattering," Mum said glibly. She was no worse for wear from her encounter with Severus. 

Hermione's patience resembled a fuse now. A quickly burning fuse. "I wouldn't need to get tetchy if you treated me like an adult," she replied, and vaguely noted she had adopted Severus' style with the absolute minimal movement of her mouth when she was annoyed. 

Looking shocked, as if she had merely eaten the last piece of cake, Mum blinked. "But that was a snake. Why would you ever want a snake?" 

That might have been a question eight years ago she wouldn't have been able to answer, but now, she knew. She sighed to release the tension that would make her words come out indignant and overly aggressive. "He's very intelligent, more so than Crookshanks, and you know how smart he is. Actually, he's very much like Crookshanks... once you get past the fact that he's a sn--a serpent." Her parents weren't convinced at all. 

"He's not slimy at all; he's very... silky, and sleek. Quiet, doesn't make a mess... I'd even say he's rather protective; he certainly doesn't like to be separated from me for too long, which is why I brought him." 

They stared at her, and Hermione thought she might have gone overboard, though it was certainly all true. It wasn't her fault she wasn't speaking about just any snake. 

Mum was first to recover. She heaped a spoonful of potatoes on her plate, looking very put-upon. "Well a snake is no replacement for a husband." 

The heat crawled up Hermione's neck, and she knew she was in the middle of turning beet red. 

Mum didn't notice this development. "What you need to do is go and find yourself a nice accountant, or an insurances salesman. You need stability in your life, away from that... war." 

That drew an exasperated sigh from Hermione, and she shook her head. "No, that's not what I need." 

On the middle stair, its whip-like body wrapped carefully around on the of banister supports, the snake listened as best it could. The hearing of snakes was a weakness, but it could mostly make out what was being said. When Hermione spoke, its tongue flickered rapidly. It was almost possible to taste her in the air itself. 

Hermione's parents, on the other hand, roused only suspicion. The mother was loud and violent, two things a snake did not appreciate. The father was unsupportive and thickheaded. Those were two things Severus Snape did not appreciate. The declaration that Hermione needed to chain herself to a dull Muggle simply sealed it. 

Tail quivering with annoyance, and wishing there was a rattle attached to the end, along with some fangs and poison glands for fun, the snake started down the stairs. 

Hermione appeared at the bottom though, and scooped the snake up. "I know you're mad," she whispered as she headed up the stairs. "I'm not too happy myself, but charging down there and confronting them won't help at all." 

She kept a firm grip on the snake until she was in her room and the door was closed. She turned the latch and locked it. "You have to understand my parents. They always were a little dubious about magic, and with the war, they're--" 

"Ignorant and offensive! Hermione, suggesting you waste your talents on an--" Severus made a face even more sour than usual. "Accountant... That is an insult!" 

"Keep your voice down! Getting upset won't do any good! My life is separating from what they're comfortable with more and more every day. I think... they're scared." Frowning, Hermione looked at the floor, noting the little scuffs on the toes of Severus' shoes. "Please don't make this more difficult by getting upset." With tears threatening to fall, her eyes met his. 

His sigh of resignation changed to a drawn out hiss as his body changed from man to snake. 

"Thank you," she said softly, watching as the snake disappeared into the bottom dresser drawer. He was angry she knew that, but there was little she could do apart from leaving the house. Even if he did not understand what her parents felt, Hermione did, and she wouldn't run from their worries. "I love you." 

With one hand poised to knock on the door of his daughter's room, Roger Granger--how he loathed ever hearing or speaking or even thinking his full name--lowered his arm. Hermione's voice, and that of a man. Not a young man. Fingering his thin beard thoughtfully, he headed back down to his wife. 

*******

The house was utterly silent. It was a familiar thing to the head of the household. He liked it to be quiet and calm. It resonated harmony, even with Hermione's return. As much as he didn't like to admit it, she had disrupted the peace and tranquility that had been established after she had moved out. 

At night though, with the silver moon lighting the hall through the gauzy curtain, the house completely silent, he could appreciate the tranquility once more. But not quite at the moment. 

Years of walking that floor led his feet along the path that was the most silent. Under his weight, not a single board even groaned as he went to Hermione's door once again. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and paused. 

Still silence. 

The window was open, and the room was bathed in moonlight and a cool breeze. Clearly, under the gently waving curtain, he could see two people in Hermione's small bed. Controlling the clenching of his heart at seeing the man holding his daughter tightly to his chest, Roger Granger--and he was too busy staring at the man to contemplate how much he disliked his name--watched the two. 

They appeared, above all, content, and though the man looked old enough to be her father, if this was what made Hermione happy, then he... A grimace crossed his face. The man was old enough to be her father! But... her happiness was more important to him than the age of this man... even though he certainly was old enough to be her father. 

That was one mystery solved, and a pretty big clue to another. His eyes picked apart the room. He was familiar with every detail in it, and he quickly focused on the one thing that was out of place: the open dresser drawer. 

Tip-toeing and feeling foolish for it, he went to the dresser and crouched down. The drawer slid open noiselessly, and he looked carefully through the clothing. No sign of any snake. Mystery two solved, and that just about covered it. 

He replaced the clothing as it had been, closed the drawer as it had been, and then returned to bed. 

*******

Breakfast was awkward. "Rose, weren't you talking about going out for a bit of shopping?" 

"Well..." She looked at Hermione with a trace of guilt in her eyes. "I had been, but..." The rest didn't need to be said. 

"Why don't the two of you make a day of it?" His eyes didn't stray from the paper as he made his suggestion. 

"Oh, well, you know Hermione doesn't care for shopping. She never did." Maybe some resentment in that last statement. 

The paper lowered, and his eyes took in the strained face of his wife and the nearly-ill countenance of his daughter. Ill... He hoped that didn't mean... "You can't just sit around the house all day, listening to me talk about the Claymores." 

Both women winced. The man's interest in football had been bad enough. His interest in American football was even worse. 

"I'm not the bookworm I used to be," Hermione said quickly, definitely wanting to get away after the mention of football--country of origin didn't matter. "I haven't really been shopping in non-wizarding shops in a while. All the wizarding shops are good for is a laugh when it comes to anything outside of robes." She stood, abandoning her breakfast. 

"They shut out the Fire over the weekend. They're in good position to go to the World Bowl again. It's been eleven years since they won it, though they were close in 2000. I know I should be more supportive of London, but that quarterback is just..." He smiled as he heard the latch of the front door. That trick always worked. 

Now to get to the serious business. 

Up the stairs and straight into Hermione's room. The bottom drawer was open an inch again, and he opened it the rest of the way. Removing the clothing slowly, he went through what he wanted to say very carefully. He lifted a shirt, and there it was, curled up at the very bottom. "You there," he said loudly, giving the snake his sternest look. 

The tip of the tail began to vibrate, and it lifted its head to look at him. 

"You understand me, don't you?" 

It just looked at him. 

"I know a little about what you magical types can do. Now, were you the man in my daughter's bed last night or not?" He smiled when the snake reared back. "As I thought. Now, I want you to listen to me very closely, because I may be only a dentist, but you don't want to see a dentist angry. Understand?" 

A small nod and flicker of the tongue. 

"Good. Now, from what she's said, you obviously mean quite a bit to her. And from what I saw, I can understand why she didn't want to introduce us. So, you take care of her and treat her right, and we won't have any trouble." His eyes narrowed suddenly. "You're not married, are you?" 

A small shake. 

"Good because I would be angry if you were and we hadn't been there. I fully intend to give away my daughter's hand to whoever she might choose. If you do decide to marry her, we _will_ receive an invitation, won't we?" 

Small nod. 

"I'm glad we understand one another." 

*******

"...in a cage. He gets along famously with Crookshanks." 

"How did the shopping go? Successful?" 

"Fine, Dad." 

"Well enough, dear." 

"That's good to hear." He was summarily dismissed as the two returned to the conversation they had been involved in as they walked in. 

"I don't see how a cat and a snake can get along together. I don't understand why you have a snake--" 

"Rose, if Hermione wants a snake, she can have a snake. She's an adult now," Roger Granger--not pleased with his own name, but he had always thought Hermione Granger had its own charm--said, sounding almost condescending to his wife. 

Both women stopped in their tracks. They stared. 

"What?" they said in unison. 

He shrugged. "It's a snake. It's harmless. If she likes it, what difference does it make?" 

"It's not lady-like, Roger." 

"So?" 

"She'll never get a proper husband with a pet snake!" 

"I'm sure Hermione will do fine, pet snake or no. Give the girl some breathing space, Rose." 

Hermione stared. Was this actually her father? She was starting to wonder if this was someone with a dose of Polyjuice. 

"After all, where would we be if you had settled for an accountant or insurances salesman? Not together as a family, I know that." He smiled at the two. "Now why don't you take care of your things? Those bags look heavy." 

As if she had been hit once again by the Obliviate spell, Hermione's mother nodded faintly, looking dazed, and headed for the stairs. 

Hermione remained rooted to the spot. 

"Something wrong, Hermione?" 

"I... I'm not sure. Did you mean what you said?" 

"Of course. Or aren't you happy with your snake?" He smiled and winked, then went into the kitchen. 

"Happy with my...? Dad, what...?" Having trouble putting it all together, she followed him. "What was that supposed to mean?" 

"Nothing at all. Just that if you're happy with your snake, then that's your decision. Of course, if something should happen to it, we'll be here to support you." A kindly, innocent smile. 

He was saying more than what his words said. "Dad, I don't--" 

"I should take care of these dishes. Go on. Take your things upstairs." 

Mouth open, Hermione was about to say something foolish and hot-headed, but all the words rushed away in the tide of confusion that swept over her when she saw her father put two plates in the sink. This was followed by two glasses, and two sets of silver. "That's... two..." 

"Hm? Something wrong?" Kindly, innocent, scheming smile. 

"So... you're OK about... my snake?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowing with this game. 

"I suppose. He wouldn't be my first choice for you, but if he makes you happy... You are an adult now, and can make your own choices." 

"So you know that he's--" 

"Very protective of you, yes. And very attached. I wouldn't say harmless though." 

*******

"Are dentists really that bad when they're angry?" 

Hermione smiled. "Depends if you're in the chair or not." 

"Chair?" 

"You should see him use his drill." 

"Drill?" 

"A little too much gas, and..." She mimed passing out. 

"Gas?" 

"Shut up and kiss me, my sleek and silky pet snake." 

"Pet snake?" 

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Do I have to do all of this myself? Come here." She took him by the chin and kissed him. 

**TBC**


	4. The Coachwhip's Adversary

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Adversary

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

"Hello, Crookshanks. Were you a good boy?" Hermione leaned down, took the cat into her arms and snuggled him. "Took care of the house all week long all by yourself." 

Crookshanks meowed loudly in declaration of his supreme awesomeness. 

"Yes, you were a good boy." Scratching affectionately between his ears, she presented him to Severus. "Isn't he a good boy?" 

"Why I put up with this..." Severus mumbled as he rolled his eyes and mechanically pet the cat. 

Crookshanks just purred and leaned into the contact. 

"Crookshanks loves his daddy," Hermione cooed, and nuzzled the pleased feline. She did not see Severus suddenly freeze up at the way she referred to him. 

The second time in a week she had made that implication, and it worried him. Sure, the first time had been a joke, and this time it was about a cat, but that was no doubt merely the first step. Next thing would be a selection of clothing in ever-decreasing sizes, then a growing collection of foolish stuffed animals, and then a room painted blue and decorated with little cauldrons--which she _would_ do to try and sway him. Today the cat, tomorrow a house full of... children. 

The purring was becoming violent at the combined attention, and Crookshanks was just about to tumble from Hermione's arms. 

"I think he misses his playmate." 

"That's unpleasant to know." Severus leveled a sneer at the cat, but he just kept purring, and Hermione laughed. 

"So," she said and lowered Crookshanks to the floor, "what did you and my father talk about?" 

The sneer slipped away, and he watched Hermione pick up the flowers that Crookshanks had knocked over while they had been away. "Nothing of consequence." 

Hermione rearranged the selection of dried flowers in the vase, then looked expectantly at Severus. "Really?" 

"You." 

"So I'm nothing of consequence now, am I?" 

"Yes, Hermione. I only keep you around for the sex and how you look in lingerie. And your cat, of course." 

Crookshanks rubbed against his leg to prove the statement. 

"Well, I suppose it's all right then. I was just hoping you weren't too involved in this relationship, but if it's just sex--and the cat--then we're fine." She turned to walk away, but cast one withering glance at him first. "Completely fine." 

Obviously this wasn't going to work. Damned forthrightness. "Hermione, you know I didn't mean it." How he hated this apologizing and pleading; it was so demeaning, and she knew perfectly well he didn't mean it. 

She had grabbed her suitcase and was heading up the stairs, so he followed, and in turn, Crookshanks followed him. 

"I may know you don't mean it," she said, and adopted her 'I may be a know-it-all but I still have feelings' voice that he recognized from back when she had been a student, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I do get tired of your sarcasm when it's so unrelenting. Especially after the week I've had." She stopped suddenly and turned on the top riser to face him. "And you were the one who urged me to go!" 

"Well, yes, but I just thought--" 

"No, you didn't think. I said something and you just automatically attacked me." With the marginal anger on her face shifting to hurt, Hermione turned so violently, she knocked her suitcase against the wall. "So I'll just go do something of no consequence now. Don't mind me." 

"Hermione..." She could be beyond infuriating when she wanted to. Almost as instinct, he reached down and lifted Crookshanks into his arms. The cat would be continuously underfoot if he didn't. "Hermione," he repeated, following her to the bedroom door, which shut in his face. "He just wanted to make sure I was taking care of you," Severus said through the door. 

"And you're failing miserably, I'd say." 

The sound of drawers opening and closing. At least she wasn't crying. 

"I would really like to speak about this face to face, and not through a door." His jaw clenched, a bad habit he had never been able to rid himself of. 

Crookshanks had stopped purring now, and was looking at him with giant yellow eyes. It resembled worry as much as the beast who didn't have a care in the world could manage. 

"Why? What difference does it make?" 

The door was unlocked, and they both knew it, but leaving it closed until it had been verbally unlocked had been the way of doing things for a good time now. To change it, to open the door now would be to break a thread of trust and understanding. His self-control won out over his frustration. "It makes a difference to me," Severus said slowly, deliberately to control the pitch of his voice, which had been creeping higher as the exchange continued. "I don't want to say this to you through a door." 

"Yes, yes. I've heard 'I love you' more than enough--" 

"That's not it, and don't you dare trivialize that!" Control had fled him completely, and he dropped Crookshanks. This would be a mistake he would worry about later because at the moment, he just didn't care: he opened the door and entered the room. 

She looked up, startled at his breach of custom. 

"I don't use those words as some sort of patch when the surface gets bumpy, Hermione, and you know that," he choked out, forcing himself not to yell. The only times he yelled were in moments of extreme--EXTREME--stress, and this shouldn't have been one of those times. 

In the doorway, looking horribly pensive, Crookshanks meowed pitifully. 

A hundred things all warred to be spoken at that moment, but not one was a clear winner, so Severus just stood there, staring at Hermione with what could only be described as bug-eyed anger on his face. 

Hermione stared back in... horror? "You... you're scaring me, Severus," she said quietly. 

His entire body just seemed to deflate at her words, and he ended up watching the floor with misery. He didn't move as Hermione slipped past him, out the door, and her footsteps sounded on the stairs. 

The front door opening and closing... 

*******

It was dark when Hermione finally returned home. She just hoped the Severus was... feeling better. All the lights of the house were off, and while that didn't concern her, it did not make her feel better either. Not even the light from the little side room, packed so tightly with books, pulling out the wrong one would bring them all down, was on. That was where he usually went when he was unhappy about something. 

From the attic window, she saw Lorenz, their owl, fly away silently into the dark sky. What truly concerned her in this tableau of familiarity was the one thing that was not: Crookshanks was not in the window, or already on the walk to greet her. 

Trepidation had already been rolling about the pit of her stomach, but now it was sitting there like a huge, leaden lump. Could something have happened? Could the Death Eaters have...? Disallowing the fear to make her feel any worse than she already was, Hermione hurried up the walk and into the house. 

All was dark and quiet, and seemed undisturbed. She poked her head into and gave cursory glances to each room on the first floor, and when she found nothing, she headed to the second floor. Her first look there brought her some relief, but it was mingled with hurt. 

On the bed, right in the middle as he was often wont to do, was Crookshanks. He had manipulated the comforter to create a depression in it, which he slept in the middle of. 

Other than that, the room was empty. Not here, not downstairs, Hermione was fairly sure she wouldn't find him in the house, and her heart dropped. Outside, she had no idea where to look for him. He had no regular place to go to if he wanted to be out, and Crookshanks was far too relaxed for something bad to have happened. 

No Death Eater visits, no returning to Voldemort, just... gone. 

Hermione's brow furrowed. Crookshanks. The cat was relaxed, yes, very relaxed. There were few times he wasn't, but Hermione couldn't imagine that this would be one of them if Severus were gone. The great orange feline could get more hysterical than Ron ever had if something were awry. 

Puzzled and still a little worried, she approached the bed. Crookshanks looked back at her with one half-opened eye, then returned to his nap, completely unconcerned. Yes, that cinched it then. Trying not to disturb the mattress, Hermione stretched out on the bed and peered over Crookshanks' side. 

Curled in the long fur of the cat's belly was her pet snake. True relief flooded her, and the silly anger she had felt earlier was forgotten. She prodded the cat's rump a few times until he deigned to look at her. "Go on," she whispered, and shoved his rear end. "Stop being a convenient hiding place for him." 

Yawning and stretching first, taking as long as he possibly could, Crookshanks stood and exposed the snake. He stretched each hind leg, yawned again, then stretched his front legs. 

"Go on already," Hermione whispered, and tried to push him along. 

Crookshanks took one last opportunity and stretched his four legs at once, his bushy tail shivering with the effort, then sauntered to the edge of the bed and hopped down. 

"Finally. You don't need to make everything such a big production." Hermione kicked off her shoes then gently scooped the snake up in her hands. It didn't move once. "Still upset?" she whispered, as she worked under the covers, then placed the coiled serpent on her stomach. If she had been thinking properly, she would have removed her robes first, but this was not a time to be acting like that. There were important things that needed to be discussed. 

Hermione laid awake, waiting to feel movement from him, but there was never so much as even a twitch of the tail. And it couldn't have been too long before she drifted off to sleep like that. 

*******

In the morning, Hermione was alone in bed. It looked like she had never shared the bed with another person the previous night. He was going to be difficult then. She knew how to deal with difficult. 

"Severus," she said loudly as she got out of bed and started to change her clothes, "don't be this way. You can't hide forever. If you want to talk, I'm willing to listen now." 

No answer. 

"Fine. You're going to make me do something drastic. Crookshanks! Crookshanks, come here!" she called, and almost immediately, she was answered by the cat, standing in the doorway, his tail held proudly in the air. Hermione pet his head and scratched his neck. "Yes, Crookshanks is smarter than Severus, isn't he?" 

He answered with a loud meow, and licked her fingers. 

"Yes, you are. Now go find him, Crookshanks. Go find Severus." 

With a final lick, he turned and scampered out of the bedroom. 

Now that that was being taken cared of, Hermione finished changing, and started on her hair. Loose or pulled back today? Maybe up. It was supposed to be nice weather, and she was wearing her navy blue robes. Yes, up would work well. Otherwise she looked like she was on her way to a meeting or a funeral. 

There was a bump and a crash from downstairs. 

"Be careful, Crookshanks. Don't break anything!" she warned, and proceeded to gather her hair up. She pinned and combed until everything looked appropriately tousled in a purposeful way, still hearing some bumps and the thud of pawsteps from the first floor. 

Humming to herself, Hermione went into the bathroom and brushed and flossed her teeth, an unnecessary ritual, but ingrained in her from the time she had teeth to brush. She was just rinsing her mouth when Crookshanks sauntered into the bathroom with the tail end of a displeased snake in his mouth. 

"You found him! Good Crookshanks." Hermione took hold of the snake, grasping the head firmly, and stroked the cat. "You go and get yourself a treat now." 

Crookshanks meowed and rubbed against her knee,purring loudly. 

"Don't play innocent. I've seen you open that cupboard door; you can get your own." She tugged his tail, and looking entirely guilty of the accusation, Crookshanks ran off. 

"Now, we can do this the easy way or the difficult way. Knowing you, it'll be the difficult way, so I won't bother to ask." Hermione opened the shower door, dropped the squirming snake in the tub, then closed the door. It was one of the very few places he couldn't escape from; it was time to have this conversation. 

She waited, but nothing. "It must be cold in there," she said idly. fussing with her hair. Though he knew perfectly well he was trapped, he would be testing his prison anyway, she was sure. "I can wait longer than you can; the bathtub must be cold on your little scales." 

It was only a moment longer before a dark shape appeared behind the shower door. "Fine." 

Hermione sighed. As usual, she would be the one to make the concessions here. That's the way it had been, and she wasn't sure it would ever change; Severus was just that way. She opened the shower door and did her best to ignore the look on his face. She just put her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder. "You _are_ cold. Where were you hiding?" 

"What difference does it make?" Petulant. He was hurt more than angry. 

"It doesn't." Hermione lifted her head, ignoring the fact that he had not returned her embrace, and slid one hand to the back of his neck. 

"Were you... going somewhere?" He was eyeing her hair. 

His act didn't fool her at all; he was very carefully acting as though he wasn't at all affected by her behavior. "Not really. I just thought it looked better like this with the robe." Maybe the conversation would wait until later. "But if you don't like--" 

"It's fine. It looks fine off your neck." 

"I meant the robe." Hermione undid a clasp. 

"Oh." 

She gave him a small smile and undid the second clasp. 

Severus cleared his throat. "Yes, well, if you don't like it... That is, you shouldn't... I mean..." 

Pulling on the back of his neck, she leaned up and kissed him. He hesitated, as she thought he might, but only for a moment, then he was liquid in her arms. One arm slipped around her waist, pulling her to him, and the other trapped her arm. His body, though solid, molded itself to her, trying to take her in to itself. 

Hermione whimpered as he sucked her tongue into his mouth, and her knees wobbled. 

"May Harry Potter strike me dead if I ever call you nothing of consequence again," he said huskily after he had released her mouth, though not her body. 

"Harry wouldn't do such a thing." She giggled, though she wasn't entirely sure why. "He would only do what I asked him, and I would never ask him to hurt you. Unless..." 

"Hermione." 

"I can fantasize, can't I?" 

"About Potter and..." Severus shook his head. "Absolutely not." 

Plucking absently at the clasps of his robes, Hermione asked, "What about Ron and--" 

"No!" 

"Oh, but with his red hair," she continued, now gently opening his robes so he wouldn't notice, "and with your--" 

"Is this what it will take to silence you?" He captured her mouth, letting his hands sweep over her body to finish removing her robes. He pushed them from her shoulders, down her arms where they hung, open to his view. Hands did not stop there. 

"You're cold, Severus," Hermione said with her robes pooled around her feet, twisting away from his chilly touch. "What were you doing?" 

"You shut me up in this bathtub, and then made fun of me. Remember that?" She kept twisting away from his hands, and though it was irritating, the way her soft, smooth flesh slid under his touch was alluring. "Now hold still." 

"No, your hands are freezing!" Hermione turned to the side and pushed his hands away. 

"If you held still, I could warm them." 

Hermione gave a good-natured shriek as his hands slid up her sides, tickling her, and then down across her back and stomach. Her foot caught in her robe, and she stumbled, throwing her arm out to catch herself. 

"That was lovely, Hermione." 

Hermione smiled warmly as the water sprayed down on the two of them. "Whoops. Maybe we should take advantage of the moment though, yes?" With one hand she adjusted the temperature of the water, and the other ran through his now-wet hair. 

"You planned this, I'm sure," he answered, and allowed his robes to fall. 

"You should be proud of my Slytherin cunning, the same way I'm proud of your Gryffindor bravery." 

Severus cupped her face in his hand. "Hermione." 

She gazed up at him. "Yes?" 

"That was Hufflepuff dumb luck." He leaned down and kissed her, silencing her protests. 

Crookshanks was waiting for them when they removed themselves from the shower. He eyed them speculatively and meowed. 

"Oh we're fine, Crookshanks," Hermione said as wrapped a towel around herself. "And it's not polite to stare." 

The cat meowed again, this time with a pitiful tremor to his voice. 

Hermione tsked. "Don't be a baby, Crookshanks. We're right here; you didn't miss anything. Well..." She looked at Severus and grinned. "Nothing appropriate for your feline eyes anyway." 

"Why do you insist on speaking to that cat in such a way? You only encourage its irritating behavior." 

"You love him and you know it. And he adores you. I'm not sure why. I think he takes it as a personal challenge." 

Crookshanks made a sound somewhere between a purr and a meow as Hermione's hand ran down his back. His gaze, now content, fixed on Severus. 

Severus scowled at the cat. "You bit me earlier and now you expect me to pet you? You chased me and dragged me up the stairs, and you think you're going to win me over like that? How would you like it if I chewed on _your_ tail?" 

As Crookshanks just purred, Hermione had to fight very hard not to laugh. "Severus, really, Crookshanks doesn't--" 

"Don't let him fool you, Hermione. He's not so innocent." 

"Well, then I keep both of you around for the same reason. Now stop picking on Crookshanks; he likes the attention anyway, and I know you wouldn't want to do anything he might like." Hermione took hold of his hand and pulled him away from the cat. 

"He infuriates me." 

"Because he likes you?" 

"Well..." 

"Oh, because he likes you when you try so hard, every day, to intimidate him. Yes, I see. Face it, Crookshanks is no Neville. You'll never intimidate that cat; he's too good a judge of character. And lacking a clever segue, we still have two days left; I suggest we take advantage of them." Her thumb stroked over his gently as her eyes held his, and she refused to release either. 

"A day spent in the library?" Something of a smile made its way to his lips. 

"You read my mind." 

They never dared light a fire in the library, and though it was silly because they had magical fire prevention galore, if anything unfortunate happened... As Hermione settled into one of the pair of huge, overstuffed, overly-modern chairs in the room, the subconscious thought swirled in her head that she would be devastated if anything were to happen to this place. It was a library, but so much more, so filled with... love, but not a sentimental human love. Part of her love for learning and intellectual stimulation and knowledge, and Severus' warmed it better than any fire possibly could. This room was well loved, and it reflected that in the warm wood of the floors, the surprising comfort of the odd-looking chairs, the ornately fashioned tables that were new and old at the same time, and in the two people quietly inhabiting it. 

Tucking her feet under her and draping an Afghan across her legs, Hermione simply held out her hand. A book wiggled free of the shelf, careful not to disturb any of its neighbors, and glided easily into her hand. "I've read this one," she commented as she looked at the cover--blank, of battered, brown leather--and identified it immediately. 

"Then read it again." Severus sat in the other chair, having selected his own book in the ordinary way, and started to read. The book fidgeted in his hands at first, unwilling to sit still, but as more pages turned, the tome settled until its pages flapped with a little sigh of contentment. 

"You always get the cooperative ones." Hermione set her book aside, where she knew it would re-shelf itself later, and held out her hand for another book. 

Several struggled on the shelves, but only one freed itself. Hermione looked at the cover and frowned. "Leaste Potente Potions? I regret the day I ever got this for you." Yet she opened it anyway and browsed its pages. 

"It actually has a rather good formula for an oven cleaner in it," Severus commented seriously, never taking his eyes off his own book. 

Hermione paused on a page, and wondered if she should comment on it. "Oh, look... a fertility booster." 

In mid-turn, Severus stopped with his hand poised in the air. "Excuse me?" 

"Fertility booster. All natural, no magic." She looked at him, waiting for some sort of reply. "You know," she continued when he didn't say anything, "just herbs and roots and--" 

"I am perfectly aware of what all natural means," he said with a sharpness Hermione heard only very rarely now. "I could make anything in that book in my sleep." That was not only sharp, but an absolute snap. 

Gently, watching the pages to make sure they didn't fold over, Hermione shut the book. She hadn't even seen what was involved in making that potion, nor what page it had been on. "Why--" 

Severus went like a losing hand of Exploding Snap. "I am tired of these games, Hermione." He slammed his book shut, which squeaked pitifully. "Are you attempting to give me hints about something? If you are, I'd rather you say it straight out. Tell me." His gaze, to match his voice, was that of the old teacher, the one used to terrorize students, fixed on Hermione. 

"It's called a joke, Severus." Undaunted, Hermione's eyes were calm, and her expression unconcerned. 

The comment seemed to miss him completely. "Is that what you want?" 

"Are you snarling at me?" 

"I thought we were comfortable, and you want to add a complication while we are still--" 

"I DON'T WANT A BABY!" 

Silence descended, and the book in Severus' hands quivered gently. "You don't?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes and released a sigh that couldn't hope to hide her exasperation. "I said it was joke. Do you think I'd want to... to try and deal with the responsibility, work, and a war? You? I'm not ready to divide my attention in that many directions yet." She shrugged, concentrating on keeping her voice even, to not come across as emotional and incoherent, as she had been called before by Severus. "I may never be ready to do that. And I may not _want_ to." Hermione quirked one corner of her mouth. "I guess you might have some input on that too." 

"Ah." Gaze softening, yet still frowning, Severus looked back down at his book and reopened it. "Well... I suppose I misinterpreted your meaning then." 

"I suppose you did." 

Morning passed into afternoon, and the air of awkwardness remained. It happened; their lives were not perfect by any means, and their battles could get rather heated... as heated as the two combatants ever dare show. 

It got to be dinner, and Hermione had grown tired of the lack of comfort in the day. She sat across the small table from Severus while they both ate a hearty beef stew in silence. The intellectual in her knew beef was not good in both practice and application: the slaughter of cattle was brutal and disgusting and simply inhumane, and the nutritional value of the meat was questionable at best. Sometimes she had to shunt aside the part of her mind that never stopped calculating and just eat some cheesecake or beef stew. 

And sometimes... 

Without even looking up from her bowl, she used her spoon to flick a glob of stew right at Severus' face. In the chair to her right, Crookshanks' head appeared, like a feline Jack-in-the-box, scenting the escaped food. 

"Hermione," Severus warned, wiping his cheek delicately with a white linen napkin. 

Resting her head in her left hand and looking very bored, she repeated the gesture, hitting him in the chin this time. 

He wiped his face again with a bit more violence in the act. "Now what's wrong?" 

The next one hit him in the right eye. Luckily he had closed it. 

Hermione watched as his nostrils flared, but that was the only real outward reaction to her behavior. Both of his eyes remained closed as he wiped his face, and she stood from her chair. "You missed a spot," she said, and walked to the other side of the table. "You've still got some on your face." 

"I would have none there if you hadn't done such a childish thing," he snapped as his eyes opened slowly and fixed on her. 

"You missed a spot." She touched a spot next to his left eye, and trailed her fingertip slowly down his cheek until she reached the corner of his mouth. 

At a volume the resonated more from his chest than his vocal chords, he said, "Did I?" His eyes still glittered dangerously, but with a new quality that made Hermione's stomach curl deliciously. 

The words wouldn't find the voice, and she abandoned her efforts to speak. It was much easier to just lean down and kiss him. 

His hands worked into her hair, holding her head firmly in place, crushing her lips to his. Abruptly, he pulled his hands free and pushed her away. Resuming his uninviting air, he stood and looked down at Hermione. "I'm going to bed." 

"It's a bit early for bed, don't you think?" 

"Yes." He walked away. 

Hermione, blinking, heard his feet on the stairs. She considered cleaning up the dishes as payback for his rather unpleasant invitation, but saw that Crookshanks, currently cleaning her bowl, would take care of them, and hurried after Severus. 

*******

There was a sudden cry, and Crookshanks lifted his head quickly. His napping place on the soft cushion of a chair under the window gave him a perfect view of the room for these occasions. But this occasion turned out to be not the emergency he had thought. He cast his wide-pupiled gaze to the bed where the noise had come from and snorted. Should have known with the scent still so heavy in the room. 

There'd be no room in the bed for him later, no place to cuddle up to. They'd be keeping the heat all to themselves. 

Setting his chin down on his paws, his eyes remained half-lidded for another half hour watching the bed, until he could no longer keep them open, and he drifted to sleep. 

He was not awakened by further cries. 

*******

Morning dawned to find the bed a confused tangle of people, blankets, and one orange cat. 

Hermione woke first, stretching, and disturbing Crookshanks. The cat changed his position to a less convenient spot right between the two human occupants of the bed. 

"Oh, you big cuddlebug," Hermione said affectionately and hugged Crookshanks, much to his annoyance. 

"I would be if not for the cat." 

With a tired smiled parked crookedly on her face, Hermione tilted her head up and kissed the nearest piece of Severus. "One night, the two of you are going to crowd me out of this bed." 

Severus looked at her with half-lidded eyes, his features relaxed, but still serious. "Of course not." 

Hermione's smile warmed. 

"Now that you've discovered our plan, it will have to change, of course." 

With a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, Hermione muttered, "I don't believe you sometimes." A secretive smile wormed its way to her lips as the thoughts wormed into her consciousness. "But only in the best ways." 

"Like last night?" He kissed down her neck and across her throat, trapping Crookshanks beneath his chest. 

With a plaintive meow, the cat squirmed out and, with his tail held proudly in the air, he removed himself from the bed. There really hadn't been enough room in the bed for him, but that had never stopped him before, and he certainly couldn't allow them to know they had bested him this time. Before leaving the room, he put his front paws on the edge of the bed, then reached over and jabbed the nearest lump. Rewarded with a snap of surprise, Crookshanks trotted out. 

Hermione laughed. "I think your partner has just betrayed you." 

"An occurrence I am used to, unfortunately." Lifting the covers slightly, he moved closer to her, and slipped his arm under her head. "But I think I'll get over it." 

"That's good to hear." She moved closer yet to him, and draped her arm over his side, using the other to caress the underside of his chin, as she would Crookshanks. "Now, about that conversation... My father, you. You remember." 

Severus sighed, slipped his arm around Hermione and pulled her closer so they were pressed tightly against one another. She rested her head on his shoulder and waited. "He just wanted to make sure I was treating you as you should be treated." 

"You do that most of the time, yes." 

Trying to ignore her, he continued. "How things were with you, your job, about the war. Things of that nature." 

Hermione nodded. "Things of no consequence. I see." 

"I don't find that amusing." 

She kissed his nose. "I see that." A smile crept over her lips as she watched his face remain sour; this was almost like their game. "Now, I take it you two talked, and he gave you the rabid dentist treatment, right?" 

A silent, affirmative nod. 

"But then everything worked out fine, yes?" 

Another silent, affirmative nod. 

Ah, but when he was silent, that meant there was more than what he was letting on. "So what's not fine then?" With a feather-light touch, she traced his bare collar bone to her sternum, then down the middle of his chest. "It's safe to tell me." Down to his navel, circling it, then to the waistband of his soft cotton, blue boxers. 

His neck flushed, but that was the only visible reaction to her touch. It did tease an answer from him. "He asked if we were married." 

"What did you say?" 

"No, of course. There was no reason to lie." 

"Oh." Hermione turned her eyes down from his, looking at the hollow of his throat and frowning gently. 

Very deliberately, he traced the lines of her face down to her chin, then tilted it up so their gazes would meet once again. "Now what's not fine?" 

"I hate it when you turn the tables on me." 

A very brief smile touched the corners of Severus' mouth. "Your father wanted to be sure that he would have the opportunity to give you away at your wedding. Nothing more." 

"My wedding?" 

Severus didn't speak a reply, only tilting his head to one side slightly. One eyebrow lifted. 

"Perhaps... our wedding?" Hermione bit her lower lip and felt like an utter fool, but it was all she could do to contain the battling feelings and doubts within her with those three words. 

A thoughtful noise came from Severus' throat, and he gathered her in his arms. "Perhaps." 

Hermione, forcing herself to calm down, made a similarly vague noise of approval. 

"Did you have a date in mind?" 

"No, not specifically." 

His hand stroked the back of her head as she inhaled the scent of his bare skin. "This is something we should think on then." 

"I agree." Hermione smiled to herself, and relaxed. 

------------ 


	5. The Coachwhip's Cloak

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

AN: This takes place at least a year before the events of the previous stories.

The Coachwhip's Cloak

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

"Scared?" 

Hermione nodded. 

The black cloak swirled around her shoulders and swallowed her in its depths. The hood was raised and she could imagine that she was a piece of night itself. "I can't see much," she said, and thought her voice sounded horribly small. 

"I'll guide you." 

"You're sure this will be..." Nothing was sure. To be seen doing this could prove to be dangerous; there had to be something better, like an invisibility cloak. 

"This cloak..." His hands ran across the shoulders, which drooped over her smaller frame. "I use it when..." 

Hermione gasped. "You wear this when you meet--" 

"Yes, but it's more than just that." He meticulously adjusted the cloak so it fit properly on her. "It has its own set of enchantments, some rather mundane, and others... more useful." 

As he stepped away, Hermione's eyes widened. Instead of a cloak four sizes too big, it now fit her perfectly. "How...? It's amazing!" 

"I've used it since I was in school. I know you're wondering why, with all these precautions, not just use an invisibility cloak." He adjusted the hood a little, so her face was hidden in it once again. "Don't worry. It has its own brand of stealth. Can you feel it?" 

Where the supple, heavy cloth touched her bare skin, she could indeed feel the minor vibrations, almost a hum, of raw power. Hermione's entire head was buzzing, like a mosquito in her ear. She shook her head, trying to clear the noise out, and said, "How can you stand it?" Finally, she swept the hood back, and the buzzing faded. 

He gave her a humorless smile. "I don't even notice it. And I thought my life was worth a bit of inconvenience. At least, I did back then." 

"It still is." Hermione threw the hood back up, pushing down the shiver that charged through her spine as the buzzing returned, and allowed impulse to have its way with her. She leaned up and kissed him quickly on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you." 

He looked very uncomfortable, and stepped back. "Yes, well, it was a request by the Ministry; I couldn't refuse." 

"And is that the only reason you're doing this?" 

His eyes hardened in an instant. "Of course not. Whatever you might have believed of me, I do not enjoy sitting back and watching senseless death, especially of someone so..." His lips thinned to a white line. "Do you have all your things?" 

Gesturing to the two suitcases at her feet, Hermione said, "These and Crookshanks. The other things I sent to my parents." Brandishing her wand, the suitcases were reduced to fitting in her hand. They were stowed in her robe, along with her wand. "Are we going now?" 

"Not until evening." 

"Because of the cloak?" 

"Night is its element." He made a show of adjusting the cloak again, and leaned down to speak in her ear. "As long as you follow my instructions, it will protect you better than any invisibility cloak; don't be spoiled by Potter's old rag." 

Hermione couldn't help but grin. "No, I'm to be spoiled by your old rag. It's very warm." She turned her head so she could have kissed him again if she were so inclined. In the beat of her heart, she changed her mind and delicately touched her lips to his. 

He jerked away, his eyes wide in a look she would have never imagined on his face before. 

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, and wore a genuine appearance of innocence. To think he would react like that... It was only a little kiss. It all just went to prove that he really was human, no longer a teacher that was impervious to others, and he certainly wasn't as bad as she had always thought of him. 

Delicate, almost, if she hadn't known his past. Pale skin, like a doll,and smooth except for the few deep lines of experience, warm despite appearances, and the caress of that hair on her cheek that was definitely not greasy... What a foolish reaction, and judging by his face, unwelcome, but her body had other ideas about the situation. "Se--" 

"Miss Granger, this behavior is entirely inappropriate. The Ministry already does not have faith in my efforts, and I would prefer not to lower their expectations further by engaging in such activity where it is public record." He had put the entire room between them now, and sounded distinctly uncertain. 

"Well I'm sorry. Please accept my sincere apologies, even though it's completely natural and there's nothing wrong with it at all." Adopting that tone sure wasn't going to smooth things over, but the whole mood had been wiped away so it mattered little. "You're right," she said abruptly. "I don't notice it at all now." 

She pulled the hood down and back up. The buzzing was there, but much subdued. "So what does it--" 

"It's none of your concern, Miss Granger," he said in his most clipped and least inviting voice. "We will leave at nine. I have preparations to make now." He swept out and left Hermione alone in the room. 

"Fine. See if I care." 

*******

For some reason, Hermione didn't expect to be walking down one of the little side-lanes of Hogsmeade. He had to be pureblood, and she had always connected pureblood and Slytherin to old money. Surely his family manor wouldn't be in Hogsmeade. "How--" 

"Sh. Remember what I said," he whispered. "It would appear very strange to hear a disembodied voice and to see me talking to darkness." He maintained his stride that she knew from Hogwarts, but his steps were quiet, and he was visibly wary. 

Darkness. Unless this cloak really did turn her invisible, no one could mistake her for darkness while the moon was high and full. It lit everything up, close to daylight to her eyes, and made stealth nigh impossible. With Crookshanks hugged to her chest under the cloak, keeping unusually quiet for him, she didn't say more to avoid becoming more obvious. 

"If you see anyone," he whispered, "stand still, and say nothing until I indicate it's safe." 

Hermione nodded. The warning seemed unnecessary though, as there wasn't a light on in any house, and she hadn't seen a soul out. Though, that seemed to prove that if she did see someone, it was best not to be caught. 

They passed house after house, some looking very much the wizarding type, and others appeared as regular Muggle homes. In Hermione's mind, she was still trying to put together what his home might look like. A tight smile stole across her face as she imagined some dank little hovel with its rooms predominantly underground. But no. That was Hogwarts, and he was a very different person outside of the school. She'd be surprised if there was even a hint of dank stone. 

They continued on until the end of the lane was in sight. There, looking regal and majestic, was a grand manor. Three stories, a collection of chimneys on the roof, a subdued iron fence around the property, immaculate shutters... This was above and beyond what she had imagined. Hermione knew her mouth was hanging open as they approached it. 

Contemplation of the house ended when she felt more than heard Crookshanks. If she didn't know the cat as well as she did, she might have mistaken it for purring, but no. Crookshanks was growling. 

Before she could mention this, she was ordered, "Stay still." And she did. 

A figure stepped out of the shadowed bushes ahead of them, and Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. The squeak of surprise and fear was barely held back. She was yanked back into moon-dappled shadows, and closed her eyes. All her concentration was diverted to keeping still and keeping quiet. Crookshanks was still growling, but it thankfully wasn't audible. 

Her ears strained to catch every little sound now, and she caught the shuffle of a footstep, and another. A whisper of wind in a cloak maybe, and more footsteps growing louder. She could actually feel the presence of this stranger, and knew that this was what they had taken the precautions for. 

Footfalls again, and Hermione dared to open her eyes. She swallowed a shriek; the person was there, right in front of her, and if she had wondered what a true Death Eater looked like... no longer. If it had only been a cloak, she wouldn't have made much note, but the mask set her brain to whirring, taking in every possible detail. Use reason and logic and intellect to overcome emotion, to keep her fright from overwhelming her, and pray Crookshanks didn't do anything stupid. 

The cat was still growling, but keeping very still, far more still than she could have thought possible for him. 

Before she could actually take in details outside of that skull-like mask, the Death Eater moved down the lane. 

Hermione closed her eyes again and released her breath as silently as possible. It was a miracle her pounding heart hadn't given her away. A hand suddenly clapped over her mouth, and this time she did yell behind it. 

"This way, quickly," he whispered in her ear, and he started to pull her away. He lifted her over a fence, then followed, and was off, clutching her arm tightly. 

Through a yard, pushing their way through a hedge, across another yard, and a pause. "Stay here," he warned. "I have to see that the way is clear." 

Quivering, Hermione nodded. Thirty seconds had never passed so slowly in her life, and when he waved for her to follow him, she ran, abandoning all notions of safety. If her hands had been free, she knew she would have been clutching his arm desperately. 

She couldn't help glancing back to see if they were being followed; the manor seemed so very far away. They had only gone a couple houses down though, and he pulled her aside into what appeared little more than a mass of bushes. Where the Death Eater had been before... To find some sort of-- 

Hermione blinked as they emerged on a path through a neatly-kept yard surrounded by high hedges. It was canopied by huge trees, keeping the way dark. 

"Inside, we'll be safe," he said quietly, and hurried down the walk. 

"This is your house?" she asked, keeping her voice low, but not whispering. There would be protection, wards here, of course. 

"Yes. Something wrong with it?" He had his wand out and was moving it in a complicated pattern over the front door. 

"No, not at all. I just expected... I don't know. It doesn't seem like you." Subtle, relaxed, not showy at all. Brick that looked distinguished with age, a simple oaken front door, cheery windows... This was as opposite of what she had thought it would be as possible. 

The door opened finally, and before speaking, he swept her inside. "Did you assume I'd live in a dungeon all year long?" The door shut and locked itself, glowing briefly as the wards regained their potency. "You can take that off now." His hands pushed back the hood in a seemingly careless manner, but his fingertips caressed her hair. 

"Oh!" Hermione staggered and fell into him. 

His arms held her carefully, hands resting chastely on her back and arms. "I should have warned you. I didn't believe we'd encounter anyone though," he murmured, his hand moving of its own accord to move slowly across her shoulder blade. 

Hermione held on to the front of his cloak tightly, her head swimming and legs shaking. "What is it? My head feels..." It was like taking too much cold potion; nothing seemed quite real. 

"Here. Take that off, and I'll explain when you're actually capable of retaining what I say." 

If her mind had been in proper working order, she would have snapped at him for such an insult, but there was too much fog, and she didn't mind having him half-carry her to another room. 

"Sit." He put pressure on her shoulders and forced her into a chair. "It reacts, you see," he said, and began to unfasten the cloak's intricate silver clasps. "It can actually be dangerous to the wearer." He slipped it from her shoulders, revealing the ginger cat in her arms. "I was confident you would be able to handle the effects though." 

"I-I do feel a little better." Hermione inhaled very slowly, and released it. "I didn't think it'd be so frightening. How does it work?" 

"You can release him; he'll do no damage here." 

That was when she realized she had a rather uncomfortably tight hold of Crookshanks, and opened her arms. "Sorry about that, Crookshanks. We're safe now," she said, and watched him hop immediately from her lap. "He doesn't seem to be feeling anything." Her hand caressed the fabric of the cloak, her eyes watching the dark glimmer of the lining. "What's it made of?" Like silk, but even more fluid. Water spun into a cloth. 

"Let me get you something first. You're still feeling it, I'm sure." 

Hermione nodded firmly, and her eyes followed him as he exited the room. Then they looked to Crookshanks, investigating these new surroundings. She wanted to do the same, but she _was_ still feeling the effects of the cloak and felt much safer in the chair. 

"Mint tea. It cures all ails." 

"Is that in your professional opinion?" she asked, turning to watch him approach with a steaming cup in his hand. 

"Personal and professional. Drink." 

She took the cup and blew on the surface. Testing the temperature carefully with a sip, she sighed as the subtle flavor cross her palette. "Mm, that's good," she commented, and finished the cup in one un-Hermione-like drink. 

"Perhaps," he said and took the cup, "we should wait until morning for explanations. Rest will take care of any lingering effects." 

With a crease of her brow, Hermione eyed the tea cup in his hand. "Did you put something in that tea?" She was feeling... relaxed, almost sluggish. After what had just happened, how she had felt during it, she should have been alert. 

"No, it was only tea. The cloak," he said by way of explanation. "If you were to wear it with regularity--" He took her hand and helped her rise from the chair. "--you would grow used to it." 

She held on to his arm, as her legs were still somewhat unreliable. "It's... some sort of..." Her brain couldn't bring forth the word she was looking for. "Duller. For when you come back from..." 

They mounted the first step. "I prefer to think of it as a sanity preserver. Though you are correct, of course." 

Hermione beamed through the haze settling over her. "Thank you. But how did you not get caught? I saw him; he was standing right in front of me." The stairs was proving a challenge, and she couldn't concentrate on the answer he was giving her. 

"...years ago. It has its uses. Very few know of it. You're not really listening to me, are you?" 

Hermione managed to laugh a little. "I suppose I'm not really. I guess the explanations really are best left for the morning. Ah good." They had reached the top of the stairs, and she felt far more confident in the next leg of their journey. "Did you make that cloak yourself?" she continued, preferring this to silence. "It's really fascinating." 

"I did, though it didn't all come together at once. I added things as my experience and knowledge increased." He passed one door, but paused at the second. "You still have your bags?" 

Fumbling in her robes with hands that didn't quite obey her commands, she pulled out the two boxes. "Right here. What's it made out of? It didn't feel like anything I've ever--" 

"Hermione, explanations in the morning." Two fingers rested on her cheek, quieting her. "I will answer all your questions in the morning." 

She looked up at him, his touch finally counteracting the cloak and making her heart beat a little faster. "The morning," she whispered. 

"Yes, the morning." His fingers lingered against her cheek, moving slowly now in a circle. "Something for you to think about. Some things you'll want to know more about, try yourself," he said, the volume of his voice dropping steadily. 

"I know I will." 

It was her hand that found the handle and opened the door. "I don't know if I can change these back tonight." 

"They're not... strictly necessary tonight. You can get them in the morning." 

Time slowed as the two made an effort to judge the other's intentions. 

"This is a bad idea," he said first. "You don't know me." 

"You don't know me either." 

"Why would you ever--" 

"Why are you questioning me?" 

"I know the types of reactions the cloak can cause." 

Hermione blinked slowly, her perception wavering a bit. "Then... you know what I felt when I kissed you at the Ministry. 

He nodded. 

"I have to ask then what will I wear tonight?" She dropped her bags, held on to his arm, and pulled herself up to kiss him. No watching Ministry this time, and he kissed her back, his fingers still on her cheek. 

Hermione was first to pull back, breathless, face flushed, and still in that haze. "So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?" 

His fingers caressed her cheek briefly. "Nothing." He lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. 

**TBC**


	6. The Coachwhip's Seduction

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Seduction

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Hermione clutched the pillow closer before opening her eyes. He had been right; she hadn't worn anything that night. The decision hadn't yet been finalized whether she should regret it or not. 

On one hand, she didn't at all. It had been such a fabulous release of months of tension, years of rigid self-control, an evening of terror, and a day of discovery. No hesitant fumblings, or stuttered words of affection, just... Everything on a 'what you see is what you get' basis, which she could appreciate in some ways. She wouldn't want to spend her life like that, living hand-to-mouth emotionally, but it had just felt so right at that moment. 

Looking across the room, she saw that the softly glowing clock on the wall read that it was now five in the morning. The four was pulsating red; his wake-up alert most likely. This was the normal time she woke in the morning, but it had never been after an evening of such... varied activity. While the situation settled, she was given the time off from work, so perhaps it would be just her little secret if she slept in for once. 

No, as she snuggled into the pillow that smelled just like the cloak, no regrets really. 

It was two hours later that Hermione reawakened. This time, there was no going back, even if she was having a lovely dream that made her smile and wish for more. There was sunlight, struggling through the trees, coming in the window to illuminate the room. Her natural instinct was to investigate, but she overrode that with common sense. 

Get clean, get dressed, then look in every nook and cranny. 

Sitting up, she saw her bags, full size now, sitting next to a bulky dresser of dark wood. The door to the room was closed, and the light was on in the attached bath. Taking it as her cue that it was safe to get ready in privacy, Hermione swung her legs out of bed, and stood, leaving the covers behind. 

Hurrying, just a little, she went to her bags and rifled through them for the most convenient clothing. Plain undergarments, plain underclothing, and plain robes; her job didn't call for fancy dress. She retired to the bath, closing and locking the door. A shower would have suited her, but there was something she liked to do when she had the time for it, and what better time than the present? 

She transfigured a small waste bin into a stool, and a soap dish into a bucket. The stool was placed in the overlarge tub, and she filled the bucket with cold water. This was always the worst, but led to greater rewards as well. Sitting on the stool, she lifted the bucket, took a deep breath, and dumped it over her head. 

For a moment, she just sat that, her eyes closed tightly, gritting her teeth. It refused to be held back though, and she let out a howl. "That's bloody _freezing!_" Teeth chattering, Hermione hurriedly soaped herself down, shampooed her hair, and then repeated the water torture, repeating her earlier declaration. 

Shivering and with chattering teeth, she changed the stool and bucket back, then filled the tub with steaming water. Without pausing to test, she slipped into the water and let out a hiss of pleasure. No one else at Hogwarts had understood the apparent method to her madness, and certainly not the other prefects. 

That bathroom, while others gaped at the utter hugeness of it, allowed her to enjoy her guilty pleasure of a bathing method in peace though. Impractical in the regular bathrooms and an ill-equipped bath at home, the prefect's bath had been well-suited. Not even her cozy flat had the proper plumbing for it, but she vowed her next home would have it. 

And if she ever got a vacation, her first stop would be Japan and the natural hot springs. 

Reflecting on her Hogwarts days, it was in these moments of bliss she could honestly say how much she really disliked holding the responsibilities of Prefect, and in her final year, Head Girl. Of course, she didn't have much love for the Ministry, but she knew her work was doing good; that's what really kept her going. 

If she had slipped into the "easy" role of an auror, her current experience most likely would have broken her. Knowledge though, that she was doing more than chasing shadows, risking her life for meager results, making advances in protective charms, wards, and potions, and her own experiences, kept her grounded. Carrying on was the only thing to do, even if it meant leaving her home behind and being put in the charge of her old teacher, Severus Snape. 

The heat worked through her, and her lips curved slowly into a smile. Placed into his charge as if she were still a student. Not quite. It could have been easily attributed to the cloak, but she wouldn't shy away from things: she had been willing, more than willing. For once, Hermione Granger had been the aggressor, and she had achieved her goal. Multiple times. 

"Lovely," she sighed to herself, feeling more refreshed than she had in ages. Before the water grew tepid, Hermione extracted herself, and wrapped her body in the most exquisite towel she had ever experienced. If this was what being a spy got, she was ready to sign up. Maybe after she learned the secrets of that cloak though. Fascinating and imminently useful it was, and she had no doubt it played some part in the fact that her... dearest professor was still alive. 

Speaking of, Hermione wondered where he might be, what sort of accusations and insults he might level at her this pleasant morning after. Powdering, perfuming (lightly), and dressing, Hermione paused a moment to consider her hair. It was a scraggly mess, easily fixed by magic, but she wasn't sure what to do with it. Bushiness had given way to slightly wild curls and waves as she approached the end of her teens, and she had mastered several different ways to make it work in her favor. 

With a wave of her wand, she dried it and swept it back, out of her face. It would do for the day; she could get fancy after she had settled in properly. There was no telling how long she would be hidden away here; possibly until Voldemort was defeated. And that monster _would_ be defeated. She would not consider otherwise. 

Out of the bath, and then the bedroom, the house was silent. "Severus?" she said loudly as she stood at the top of the stairs. Instead of repeating the action when the only answer she received was from Crookshanks, Hermione headed down the stairs and was greeted by a very pleased cat. 

"You must think you're something special to have a look like that on that furry face of yours," she cooed, and scooped the cat into her arms. "What have you been doing this morning? Terrorizing Severus?" 

Crookshanks just purred as she scratched under his chin with one finger. 

"You must be hungry though. I never did get around to feeding you last night," she said as she made her way down a narrow hallway the led to the rear of the house. An open doorway on her right was the darkened kitchen, and there on the floor in the corner were two bowls. One filled with water and the other with food. The dent in the mound was evidence that Crookshanks had already been using it. 

On the small table, complete with a whole chair, Hermione saw a note, so set Crookshanks on the floor. 

_You get a vacation. I do not._

Not signed, or even an initial. That was no surprise. So, if he wasn't off on his duties and he wasn't teaching, then Hermione had to wonder just what his job was. Reporting to some secretive department of the Ministry? Reporting to Dumbledore? Would he take offense if she asked? 

Now that his whereabouts were established, and Crookshanks was settled, Hermione was free to search through anything and everything. 

The kitchen, the formal dining room that looked ready to host a funeral dinner, and the sitting room at the front were all completely normal to her surprise. Hermione could almost believe that her parents had decorated it all, though with less flowers than her mother liked to scatter about, and no pictures of family. 

It was the other front room, behind the narrow door that spoke something of her host's personality. A low whistle escaped as she eyed the walls and all the books stored there. Given a chance, she could probably sit in there until she grew old and not get bored with the offerings on the shelves. 

Now she was torn. Which to explore? The rest of the house, or this room and all the lovely books? Basic planning won out: it'd be easier to investigate the other rooms if she were alone, and these books, these wonderful, wonderful books, weren't going anywhere. 

Hermione cast longing, sorrowful looks at the room as she left it, and headed back up the stairs. This she remembered well, even as strangely debilitated as she had been, each stair as she had mounted it, firmly holding on to his arm. The first door, on her left, opened to a bright, sunlit room filled with a dizzying array of plants. The wall had been replaced by a generous amount of windows, as was the roof, to let in the maximum amount of natural light, even through the trees that surrounded the house. There was no doubt that there were charms to prevent any curious soul from peering in. 

It made sense that some things would be more convenient to grow himself, though Hermione failed to recall any potion that required anything of the small tomato plant currently sporting a trio of ripening fruits. 

Tucking her observations away, she closed the door and moved on. She already knew what was behind the second door on the left side of the hall, so she turned her attention to the right side. It came with a complete lack of surprise, that the first door was to a well-stocked and meticulously neat workroom. Calling it a laboratory didn't fit with its appearance, as it was clean, well-lit, warm, and nothing like the Hogwarts dungeons at all. 

The room seemed to reject her foreign presence though, sending cold shivers up her back, and she retreated quietly. The next door was a basic bath, and not nearly as interesting as the one she had used. The last door caused a furrow to appear on her brow. 

A bedroom. The smaller size and lack of attached bath led Hermione to believe that this was a guest bedroom. Crossing to the dull, ivory-colored dress with silver hardware, she opened the top drawer to find it empty. 

Empty. 

Irrationally, unreasonably, Hermione was angry. Leaving the drawer ajar, she marched back to the bedroom she had spent the night in, to the--now that she noticed--stupidly masculine chest of drawers and yanked open the top drawer. 

His clothes. 

*******

"So, tell me, had you been planning to get me into bed? Or was it just luck that I decided to do so of my own will?" 

He had one foot through the door. "Excuse me?" 

"Last night. You planned on me sleeping in your room. Not the guest room." Hermione leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, and did her very best not to completely rage at him. 

"Ah," he said calmly, and entered the house fully. Closing the door and locking it, he avoided meeting her eyes as he removed his cloak--The Cloak--and hung it up on a hook next to the door. "The cloak," he began, and finally looked at her. "It--" 

"Don't lie to me," she hissed, and uncrossed her arms, hands balled into fists at her sides. "What, you thought because I was being a flirt at the Ministry, that gave you permission to just carry me off to bed? That because I was your responsibility that meant I was your property? You disgust me!" 

His mild reaction caught her off-guard; this was hardly the man she was familiar with. "You kissed me, twice, at the Ministry. I count that as more than flirting." One eyebrow arched in a vague amusement. "So if it had all taken place in the guest room, it would have been perfectly acceptable?" 

Hermione's jaw clenched briefly. When she answered, it was with an aggressive and terse, "Yes." 

"I see. I apologize then for not taking you to the guest room. I don't find the bed as comfortable there. It's entirely my fault." 

"Good. Apology accepted." Stay mad or let it go? Her anger was rather silly, but it had begged for a target, and she refused to turn it inwards. Yes, then the only thing was to let it go. "Now, I think you said you would explain about your cloak." 

He almost-smiled at her, which irritated Hermione, but then gestured to the sitting room. "Tea perhaps? And then explanations. More... demonstrations?" 

Then he did grin, and Hermione scowled. "Tea and explanations I would appreciate. Demonstrations, no thanks." 

"As you wish." 

While Hermione waited, Crookshanks sauntered in and hopped up on her lap. As her hand caressed his back and sides, his yellow eyes slipped closed as he purred. It was a comfortable and soothing setting, listening to the preparation of tea from the back, almost like home. Correction, this was her home for an indeterminate time to come, and it was best to get used to it. 

One thing she could rely on was her cat. He was such an excellent judge of character, human or animal, that if Crookshanks was unbothered by his surroundings or new housemate, then Hermione would manage. Until the situation bothered Crookshanks, she was safe, and that was the whole point of this infuriating ordeal. 

"As I said," he stated, entering the room with a strangely petite tea service, "I've had that cloak since I was in school. My first year. The resizing charm was something I found in the library when my legs started outgrowing it." 

Hermione accepted a cup of steaming tea and blew over it gently. "It really is nice." 

There was no cup for him, though one waited empty next to the fine teapot. "It was expensive when I got it, and those of the same kind now are even more so. It was quite ordinary, other than its quality, when it came into my possession though." He sat, relaxed, in a chair that looked perhaps one size too small for his long frame; he inhabited in easily though, so his hands rested on the grips as if it were his throne. 

Watching him over the rim of her cup, Hermione took a sip. "You said night was its element. What did--" She stopped when he held up one hand. 

"It's a bit of a long story, and easier told from beginning to end." He paused as Hermione nodded, then began to speak again. "Oh, they started simply enough, things easily enough done on your own; I was only in my first year, after all." 

The knowing grin made its way to Hermione's face before she could stop it. 

Smoothly, he acknowledged it. "I would not curse my own clothing, and there were certainly no self-help curses I was aware of. I had to resort to the library like all the other know-it-alls." 

The grin immediately vanished to be replaced by irritation. 

"It only annoys because it's the truth, Miss Granger. Or may I refer to you more personally, as you did me last night." 

The irritation grew. "Hermione's fine," she ground out. There was certainly no point in being formal, and it would only add to slight strain that threaded through the house. 

"I meant no offense, Hermione," he said, drawing out her name to make it almost... 

Hermione took a large swallow of tea. 

"I could have been called a know-it-all in school. Why do you think they detested me so? The Gryffindors who only needed to get by on charm and a quick joke, even at the expense of other students." He leaned forward slightly, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the chair, though that did not show on his face. "James Potter, Head Boy, the top student... in Gryffindor. Not the school's top student, but that name is left out of conversation because he was in Slytherin at a time when being in Slytherin was a crime." 

He sat back, and his hands loosened, but he did not relax. "Your House, it's your home, your family. Have you ever heard the saying 'one rotten apple spoils the bunch'?" 

Hermione nodded, and refilled her cup, but did not look away from him for more than a second or two at a time. 

"What do you think happens to the bunch when a quarter of the apples are rotten?" 

"It would be... very hard to stop the decay from spreading." Hermione thought her voice sounded very... crude, violating his tale with its presence. 

"Of course. I suppose I don't need to lecture you on such things, but an apple can be... soft, and not be rotten. It simply appears to be bad and is thrown out with the diseased and worm-infested ones. And there--" 

"It goes bad, and more quickly. Surrounded on all sides, the skin proving inadequate defense, the meat already bruised, damaged, but not bad, succumbs under the pressure until it collapses." Hermione could not meet his gaze, and simply stared into her cup, her heart beating quickly. 

"You're quite knowledgable about fruit." 

And suddenly the mood was snapped. Hermione began laughing, and had to set her cup down or spill tea all over Crookshanks. "I would never call you a fruit, Severus." 

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Thank you. I'm sure the temptation was there. But this is not about school or grades or rivalries or even fruit." His eyes gleamed suddenly as they raked over Hermione. 

"Fruits or vegetables, Severus. Your cloak," she said, her eyebrows raised at the look and what she thought it had been implying. 

"Very well. There are simple charms if you look long enough. And if you're smart enough and industrious enough, you can modify them to suit your purposes. My cloak was on the receiving end of the first charm I ever modified. After that, there were other charms, mostly inconsequential, that I put on it for my own convenience. They're really not worth mentioning, as I'm sure you would have your own set if you were making one." The notion seemed to suddenly occur to him as he tilted his head to one side. "You're going to make yourself one, correct?" 

Hermione nodded eagerly. 

"I'm sure you'll be entirely successful with it. As the times grew more uncertain, the things I tried became more desperate. Some I managed, and others I did not. Again, inconsequential, as I know the things you're most curious of. I think I can clear them up with one answer." 

Cup half-way to her lips, Hermione stopped, and watched him carefully, eyes revealing the depths of her interest. She watched him stand and leave the room. The cup almost fell from her fingers. "Severus?" she said tentatively. 

He didn't answer, but then was gone for less than half a minute. When he returned, he was carrying a large book; he dumped it unceremoniously in her lap, and reclaimed his seat. Crookshanks protested loudly, having it almost dropped upon him, and fled her lap. 

Hermione's hand was trembling when she set down her cup. It looked like... hair, or fur covered it. Long, black, coarse hair, like a yak or possibly a llama. The same way she had caressed Crookshanks, she caressed the book. It was much softer than it appeared, like a long-haired cat really, but more wild. 

"Have a look," he said. 

His words reached her ears easily, but her eyes were looked on the book in her hands. She let her fingers trail over its cover, almost lovingly, before she opened the heavy cover. The first page said plainly _The Dark Arts_. She stared. 

"I believe it's blood, but have not tested, nor do I think it matters. The contents are much more... tame than what they're penned in would lead you to think." 

"Where'd you get this?" Hermione asked, and realized her voice sounded very far away in her own ears. 

"I'm not at liberty to say, but rest assured, it is a rarity among rarities. More for reputation than anything." 

It was true, she found as she looked through the yellowed pages. It might have been written in blood on some sort of horrid skin, but the things contained were strangely timid. It was like someone had prepared to write the most frightening catalog of Dark Arts, but then chickened out. Still, it was fascinating. "So what did you use?" Hermione asked, flipping page after page. 

"You're almost there. You'll know it." 

A page, then another, and when she turned the next, she paused. 

_Night is its element._

Water made cloth, silken ecstasy, electric against her skin... The memory itself made her shudder. To have that against her naked skin would no doubt induce feelings of such a magnitude to make her faint. 

As coats and hats and shoes were cut from the hide of a beast, so his cloak had been cut from the hide of darkness. Once wool and silk, it had been given life through the technique contained on the page she was staring at. Night was not its element; night was its brother. "How?" Her voice, distant before, was absolutely tiny. 

"I might show you, if I had good reason," he said, and she shivered as his breath washed over her ear. She hadn't even noticed him move to stand behind her. 

Her head shook of its own accord. "I couldn't." 

"I don't mean that; I mean a simple exchange of knowledge. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hermione?" 

Hermione's eyes closed and her head tilted back. To try and stem the tide of heat rushing through her, she took a great breath of air. 

"It feels so lovely against your skin. Some nights, when I was so deep into the Dark Arts it was never light, and the others feared my presence even though I slept, I would wrap myself in it. I discarded the flimsy constraints of wizard and Muggle alike, and soaked in the essence of it, let its touch seduce my naked flesh. I was rotten to the marrow of my bones, and there was one that never refused my touch." 

A knot twisted itself into a painful lump in Hermione's stomach. Manipulator, seductive, he knew she had pronounced those inflectives the night before with a whole heart; the words that had streamed from her mouth had been simple and unmistakable, and he knew it. 

"Voldemort offered me nothing. He promised power, and everything that went with it, including an army of concubines if we wished it, but I needed no cowed toys with dull eyes, broken spirit, and open legs. Until I had a woman I could respect, I had the simple, sometimes overpowering affection of the night. Hermione." 

Hermione turned her head and blindly sought his mouth with her own. Who needed the cloak? 

*******

"I wasn't flirting. You seduced me." 

His eyes were half-lidded and glittered mischievously. "I explained my cloak. What you wanted." 

"You seduced me." 

"You don't want me to?" 

"You're complicating this situation by doing it. I'm not your lover, no matter what we just did." Hermione stared at a spot on the ceiling over the bed, refusing to look at the man next to her. 

He made a small noise that didn't sound sincere in the least. "You didn't listen very closely to my story, did you?" He kissed her shoulder. 

"Please, I'm asking you to not confuse the situation by doing that again. I'm here because there is a threat against my life, not because I want to take you as my bed partner." Still, she kept her eyes firmly on the ceiling, even as he touched her exposed skin with soft hands and gentle kisses. 

"I act. You respond. It's simple." He suddenly grasped her wrist tightly and rolled on top of her. "And you respond so... loudly and vigorously. How can I resist, Hermione?" 

Though her eyes had flashed with anger, the ice in them melted with the utterance of her name. "Try," she whispered, staring at him helplessly. "Please. You make me feel so..." She swallowed, her mouth thick with saliva. 

"Good, Hermione. Good." 

Hermione moaned slightly as the length of his body pressed against her own. "Yes," she whispered, and didn't resist when he kissed her once more. 

**TBC**


	7. The Coachwhip's New Development

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's New Development

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Hermione started small. Not by choice, but because she was not allowed to leave the house unless she had an escort. Her escort was at work. 

Hermione started with a white linen shirt that buttoned up the front and was cut in a masculine style, but fitted for a woman. 

Would it stay white, or would it turn black? Assuming she could even manage that far. Could the process be performed in the opposite manner, making a cloak or a shirt that was cut from the sun itself? 

Her hands ran over the cover of the book lovingly now. After Crookshanks, it was her favorite pet. It didn't matter that it looked like it had been written in blood. She wouldn't believe that it had been; it was silly. What purpose did it serve? Intimidation should come from the contents, not the ink. The cover intrigued her though, that fur. Rarity of rareties Severus had said--before he had seduced her--and she believed him. 

He had said so many things, and she had swallowed every word, each sentence whole. His sad story of school, his disgusting time with the Death Eaters, and Voldemort's promises... What a sad, pathetic youth, a crushed and abused boy, and a manipulative and sensual man. 

And all of this thinking was simply a distraction, stopping her from doing what she was planning. The main problem, and most daunting part of the process, was the use of wandless magic. How to imbue the cloth with raw power, how to make it... not sentient, but... 

Hermione sighed. Book learning took her very far, but learning from experience took her that extra distance. She lowered her wand and flopped on the bed. This would just have to wait until Severus returned; she needed his help. That was the only thing from him she needed, though he repeatedly told her differently. 

Sometimes she believed it, just like she believed everything else he said. Sometimes she wanted to believe it, and didn't mind how tangled things got when she woke in his bed. 

Did he respect her in the morning? 

Of course. He wouldn't have tried in the first place if he hadn't respected her. Respect wasn't love though, and outside his bouts of seduction and their nights of sex, there was only tolerance. Hermione wanted love; she didn't want to settle for sex. 

She wanted more than tolerance in the place she had to live. Alone was better than this bizarre cycle she was being tossed through. As if answering an unspoken call, the front door downstairs opened. Odd that he would be back so early. She had the impression his hours were relatively normal when he was... between tasks. 

"Severus," Hermione said loudly, standing and going to the stairs, "I need your hel--" Her legs froze at the top of the stairs for an instant. "Shit!" 

The door was standing open because a body was laying in the doorway. Hermione almost fell as she tromped down the stairs, then cursed herself and ran back up to get her wand. "Damn damn damn!" she muttered, and this time did slip down the last three stairs to land awkwardly next to Severus' prone body. 

Though he was facedown, Hermione knew it was him, knew The Cloak simply by the vibes it gave off. It called to her, sang out a powerful melody she could feel in her bones. Was it better to leave it on if he were hurt? Or take it off, let that mellow wash of absent stimuli hold him? "Can you speak?" she said quietly, and magicked him into the air. 

Bruises covered his face, and blood dribbled from nose, mouth, and a cut over his left eye. That left eye was swollen shut, but his right eye flickered open briefly and fixed on her. 

"Should I take it off?" Hermione asked. That was her main concern because all these other injuries she could handle with a combination of healing spells and potions, but The Cloak might either sap what little strength he had if she removed it... or left it on, or it might leave him numb, distant. 

"Off to--" 

Hermione placed her fingers over his mouth lightly, then went about the difficult task of removing the cloak with one hand. Just touching it she could feel the energy coursing through it, and her knees wobbled at the pain transferred from Severus to herself. 

"Careful," he managed, and attempted to lift his hand to undo the clasps himself. 

"I'll manage. You won't." The pain didn't catch her by surprise this time, and she pushed it to the back of the line of priorities. One small, twisting silver clasp undone, and then another, and... the last. 

The cloak fell from his shoulders, and his entire body sagged. He shivered dramatically and dropped an inch when Crookshanks yowled sadly to startle Hermione. 

"Crookshanks! Go!" she snapped, and steered Severus up the stairs. Luckily the cat didn't wind around her legs, or he would have received at the least a very stiff shove with her foot. "How badly are you hurt, Severus?" asked Hermione as she lowered him to the bed. "Can you answer me?" Keep his attention, keep him conscious if possible. 

His open eye, which had been glassy and unfocused fixed on her abruptly. "Bad enough to know it." He blinked slowly as Hermione's infuriated and concerned face was reflected in his eye. "Worse than usual." One hand rose and settled delicately on his stomach. "Inside." 

"I'm going to need a mediwizard then. I can't handle internal injuries. Who do you usually--" 

"No." 

It was as strong as he could manage, but it was enough to give Hermione pause. "No? You'll die if I don't. You need real medical help, Severus. Don't play this game with me." Her hands worked on their own, unfastening his robes, revealing pale skin beaten and bruised. "This... isn't the Cruciatus, is it?" With a touch lighter than a feather, she traced a trail of bruises down the lightly defined oblique abdominals. 

"A... boot," he hissed, trying to edge away from her fingers. 

The look of unmasked pain he showed on his face made Hermione jerk her hand away. "Something for the pain. You can keep a potion down?" 

"I'll make it." He spoke in complete sentences, but it was very apparent an effort he couldn't sustain. "The... workroom." 

"I'll find it. Relax." She ran to the workroom and yanked open the first cabinet her eyes fell on. It was filled with various ingredients. The second was the same, but the third, smaller cabinet was filled with bottles and phials all neatly arranged. Hermione rearranged them into an indecipherable order to find the strongest pain relieving potion amongst them. 

"Here. The whole thing," she said and tipped the bottle up against Severus' lips. Gaze intent, she watched his lips part and the potion drain into his mouth. She wiped his mouth with her sleeve when he coughed and sent some of the potion trickling down the side of his face. 

While waiting for it to take hold, Hermione returned to the task of undressing him. It had to be bad when he didn't resist at all, even when his shorts were yanked down roughly. There were more important things to concern herself with though, namely the abuse that had been heaped upon him. To eyes untrained for mediwizard duty, it looked life-threatening; there was nothing to say that it wasn't otherwise. 

Clenching her jaw and swallowing hard on the bubble of panic, Hermione started on the things she _could_ manage. The cut over his eye was cleansed and healed, blood washed away, a warming charm settled over the bed, and the lights turned down to the minimum. His breathing had gone slow and deep, if a bit ragged, while she had finished all that, and she knew it was safe to consult someone about his injuries as he slept. 

Crookshanks followed her every step, and it took all her self-control not to snap at him when he would get under her feet. He was worried just as she was; yelling would do nothing. "Go stay with Severus, Crookshanks. I need to get this done. Don't step on him." Understanding better than most people she knew, the cat turned and hurried up the stairs. 

Standing in front of the dark and cold fireplace, looking like it hadn't been used in an age, Hermione searched for floo powder. Hope against hope, really. Not being on the floo network would make much more sense for him, but sense wasn't figuring into the situation at the moment. On the mantle in what appeared to be, of all things, a shoe polish tin, there was maybe a quarter inch of the powder. 

"Please work," Hermione muttered before starting a fire and tossing in a pinch of powder. "Albus Dumbledore." 

It took a few heart-wrenching moments in which Hermione thought either the fireplace was off the network or Dumbledore wouldn't receive her summons, but then his head appeared amidst the green flames. 

"Miss Granger, what a surprise." 

"I'm afraid this is business, sir. I really don't have anyone else to... consult." She wasn't even conscious of the way her hands were twisting her wand about. 

Dumbledore didn't miss a beat. "Ask away, child." 

"It's Severus." Didn't even think to be embarrassed by using his first name. "He's hurt badly and refuses to see a doctor. They're internal and I don't really know anything about real mediwizardry, and if he doesn't--" 

"I'll be there shortly. Calm yourself." And then he was gone. 

At first, Hermione hugged herself in front of the roaring fire, feeling chill, but sense returned. Leaving a fire going was bad, and she extinguished it. A calming potion would be better and more helpful than huddling in the ash of the fireplace trying to hold back the shock. 

But she was still staring into the now-empty fireplace when there came a sharp set of raps on the front door. Hermione almost ran to the door, but cautiously peered out the window first to see Albus Dumbledore standing on the step. Relief flooded her, and she was sure she wouldn't need a calming potion with the venerable old man there. 

Before answering the door, Hermione saw Crookshanks at the top of the stairs, his back arched and fur standing on end. "It's all right; he's here to help. You remember the headmaster." She opened the door and stood immediately aside. "Right this way, sir. He's upstairs. I gave him a pain relieving potion and cleaned up what I could, but--" 

"Yes, you did the proper thing under the circumstances. Let's have a look." 

"You're... a mediwizard?" she asked as she followed him to the bedroom. 

"No, but I've picked up a thing or two." He turned and smiled at her. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he survives in one piece. He'd be absolutely insufferable if something happened. Why hello, Severus!" 

The reply was a strained, muted growl; he wasn't completely conscious. "What are you doing here?" 

When Hermione came into view of the man in the bed, he glared at her, though it seemed a very weak dose of his usual poison. "I told you I didn't need--" A strangled gargle that probably would have been a howl of pain from any other patient interrupted him as Dumbledore placed his hand flat on Severus' midsection. 

The smile had been abandoned, and now there was a look of deep thought on the old wizard's face. This was a moment of complete seriousness for him, an event Hermione had never been witness to. "You were right to contact someone, Miss Granger. Stop glaring at me, Severus; you're three steps from your grave." 

"I'm fine." The sweat on his forehead, the ragged breathing, and the lips twisted into a snarl of pain said otherwise. 

"Sir, is there anything I can..." Hermione's offer of assistance faded as she noticed Crookshanks curled up against Severus' other side. He even had his arm around the cat. 

"Another pain relieving potion, I think. The rest will just take a single wand," Dumbledore reported, still appearing thoughtful. 

"Yes, sir." Actually, she thought he was merely sending her on an errand to clear the room, but there was no denying in that she had been bordering on more hurtful than helpful anyway. She went to the workroom and rummaged around the cabinet she had disordered so thoroughly until she found the potion she was looking for. Just to be safe, she grabbed a second. 

"...chance." 

"Stupid and careless. I was lucky." 

"Stop talking, Severus. It's not healing you." 

"Neither are you." 

"I'll do what I can, but if you refuse to see a proper mediwizard, you'll do most of your healing the old-fashioned way. Now hold still; this will stop the bleeding and close the tear." 

Hermione stood in the doorway and watched as electric blue light poured from the tip of Dumbledore's wand. She expected to see Sev--Snape's--her old prof--oh hell, Severus' body react in some thrashing of limbs and gathering of brows, maybe another snarl, but he remained still and quiet. In fact, he even looked relieved. 

"Now, I'm afraid I'll have to relive you of this," said Dumbledore and held out his hand. Severus' wand flew into it. "I shall return it to you when you are properly healed. Allow Miss Granger to attend to you, friend." 

The reply was nothing more than an incoherent groan. 

"I'm sure you'll have more to say when you've got a bit of your strength back." With that same staid smile, Dumbledore looked at Hermione. "Let's chat." 

*******

"At least three weeks." 

She had expected him to scream in outrage, but certainly not to simply say, "No," and cross his arms over his chest. 

"You don't have a choice. If you won't see a mediwizard, then you have to heal the natural way, and that takes time. Eat this." Hermione shoved a bowl of soup in his face. 

"No." 

"You're acting like a child. Eat the soup." It wouldn't work, but nothing else she had tried worked either, so she was back to simple honesty. 

He turned his nose up at it. 

Making a sound of disgust, Hermione set the bowl down rather more harshly than she had planned, and splashed it all over the bedside table. "Oh you really _are_ being a child. Grow up, Severus, because I am not going to deal with you like this. You could at least be a little thankful for not letting you die, you know? But I suppose that would be expecting too much from you, to have an ounce of sense or respect or politeness in your head." She stood from her seat on the edge of the bed and glared at him. "Fine. Next time, I won't bother. This would be so much easier if you didn't need to eat anyway." 

It was very easy to maintain her anger walking across that room with him sitting silent and sullen behind her. So very easy to take it out on the door as she slammed it, but after... Clinging to the shreds she still felt, Hermione went to the guest room, maintaining her march, grabbed a handful of random clothing, and proceeded to the bathroom. 

One more door to slam, and her feet slid slowly out from underneath her. Huddled on the floor, arms around her legs, forehead on knees, anger completely washed away now, she cried silently. 

For two days she had tried to help him, and for two days she had been utterly rejected. When he chose to speak, it was often to insult and belittle her, the old hurts about being a know-it-all, too smart and at the same time not smart enough, clumsy, annoying, and distinctly unattractive. It wasn't true, none of it, she told herself each time, but it was wearing her down. Even Crookshanks had turned traitor on her, staying with him in the bedroom. 

God how she hated him, how desperately she wanted to hate him... If he could say those things to her, then she could do this. "I hate you," Hermione whispered, through her falling tears. "I hate you." 

With slightly more strength and a few less tears, Hermione pushed herself upright. Hiding in a bathroom, she wouldn't let him do that to her. Self-respect was more important than his health now. To hell with him. Forgetting the idea of a bath, she returned to the bedroom and yanked open the door. 

"Here. Heal your own damned self, you self-righteous prick." With that said, she threw her wand at him and smiled as it struck him in the face. Before he could reply, she was gone, heading down the stairs and out the front door. 

*******

"Hermione! Hermione, we haven't heard--yes. Oh, of course! Your room is always waiting for you! He'll be so happy to hear. I'll be looking forward to seeing you, dear." 

Hermione had finally seen sense and was coming home. 

*******

It was nightfall and Hermione had not returned. Severus stared at the clock as the hands moved slowly and he held on to her wand. Crookshanks had stayed with him for reasons he didn't understand, but the cat was getting antsy and apparently hungry. His eyes strayed to the bowl of soup, now horribly cold, at bedside, and his stomach growled. 

"I should have just eaten the damned soup," he groused, but his voice lacked any real conviction. On the contrary, it sounded very small and weak. 

Once again, he tried to get up, but actually sitting fully up caused horrible pain in his gut, and walking... The very concept frightened him. Why now? Why this time instead of any other? The idea of simply dying alone, bleeding to death didn't bother him, but with all this fuss... Now it was just stupid. 

He stared down at her wand now. "_Accio_ parchment," he said, and held his arm out. Nothing happened, he could feel it. If this were his own wand, this wouldn't be an issue at all, but no, Dumbledore had that. 

Scowling, Severus held his arm out again. "_Accio_ parchment!" he snapped, and a jolt of pain rushed up his arms, through his head, and straight to his stomach. Maybe it had been for the best to have his wand taken. Clenching his eyes shut and holding one arm over his damaged middle, he sat there and tried to find his breath. 

After a few minutes, when the pain was at least somewhat not searing, a piece of parchment fluttered into his lap. "Oh goody," he rasped, and prepared to repeat the process. 

*******

Without her wand, Hermione felt naked and distinctly unsafe, and she regretted throwing it at Severus. Well, no. She didn't regret throwing it at him; she regretted leaving it with him. There was also something... liberating, and that confused her. How was it liberating to be without the single most useful thing she had ever owned? Yet, here she was, settled in her old room, and ready to forget the entire day, the previous _week_ had ever happened. 

Not changing into pajamas as she had none with her, leaving it all with Severus, she collapsed on top of the blankets. In moments she was deep asleep. 

It was morning, well into morning and fast approaching lunch when she awoke. The house was pleasantly silent as both her parents were off to work, and she had the whole day to do absolutely nothing. No battles to get Severus to eat, no fights, no traitorous cat... Just peace and quiet. 

No library. No workroom. No wand. Peace and quiet. Boredom. Hermione sighed. It was something she could get used to if she had to. It only took a short trip to the library, Muggle or wizard, and she'd be able to read away the hours. Not necessarily challenging, but stimulating enough. 

Downstairs, she found a note waiting for her. 

_This came for you this morning, but we didn't want to wake you. There's toasted muffins in the pantry, and some sandwiches in the refrigerator._

'This' turned out to be a letter delivered by owl post. It was a tightly rolled scroll, tied by a piece of thread that looked like... 

Frowning and with her hands trembling, Hermione broke the thread and unfurled the scroll. She read it four times quickly. 

_You were right._

_I need you, Hermione._

_I'm sorry._

No signature. None needed. 

Hermione sighed. Her parents would be disappointed she was leaving so soon after arriving. 

*******

It was raining when she went back, and she found it oddly appropriate with those dark clouds and rare shafts of sunlight streaming down. An omen? Portents of things to come? No, she had abandoned such ideas when she had fled Divination in school. A fraudulent hodgepodge of guesswork and outright lies, Divination was, and she wouldn't stand for it. Facts and what she could learn from them and what she could do with that knowledge--that was what was important to her. 

All too soon, she stood on the step, soaked to the bone. Hesitation only gained her an extra pound of sopped robes, so she put on her bravest front and opened the door. Idly, as she crossed the threshold, she wondered if she had waited too long and he was even more badly injured. Certainly his stubbornness would lead him there one day, if not already. 

"Severus?" 

He appeared, and it took all the self-control Hermione had not to laugh. He looked so utterly pitiful beginning with the way he walked--and what was he doing walking?--out from the rear. One hand was firmly on the wall, supporting him, and his steps were slow and shuffling. 

A pair of boxers were sitting so low on his hips they just barely kept his modesty; the waistband was stretched across his pelvis and off the softer tissue of his stomach. A long satiny grey robe draped his frame, but hung open, the belt left untied. He was in sad shape, bruises still coloring his pale skin, his eyes sunken and decorated with dark bags; his hair was unkempt, oily in a manner she had never seen. Worst of all, and yet most humorous was his stomach. It was bruised, discolored, raw, and swollen. If Hermione didn't know better, she might have thought he was in the early to middle stages of pregnancy. 

It must have been all quite plain on her face because he grimaced. "The spell," he offered, and took another shuffling step forward. "It's much more uncomfortable than it looks." 

What worried Hermione more was that he didn't seem the least embarrassed about his appearance or condition. "You shouldn't be walking," she said evenly, observing him as the laughter died in her throat. 

"Your cat. He demanded to be fed." 

"And you? Have you eaten?" Pitiful, though she couldn't tell him that. He looked nearer to death than when he had collapsed. 

"No. Too much effort." 

She eyed him critically. "Walking looks like it's too much effort. I don't even want to know how you managed to get downstairs; I'm going to have to levitate you up." 

The wince he let loose made Hermione pause. "Something wrong with that?" 

"Please keep my head intact. It doesn't agree with being crushed against ceilings." 

She blinked. "Crushed against... Oh! You remember that?" 

The scowl was classic Snape. Neville would have been terrified. "I often wonder how I could ever forget." He held out his hand in an effort to change the subject. "Here." 

Her wand. 

"Thanks. This'll help." She took it from him, and noted he looked even worse at this distance. "I felt naked without it." The fact that his face remained slack and tired looking when presented with such an obvious opening further worried her. "Have you had any pain relieving potion?" 

Shake of the head, maybe he looked a little ashamed. It was hard to tell. 

"Severus, for God's sake." Irritation took over from more gentle feelings, and Hermione inserted herself under his arm, supporting him. "I'm surprised you're not dead, doing all this, asking to get hurt." 

A dark chuckle reverberated through him. "Story of my life. I'm so hungry, Hermione." 

"You need to get in bed and stay there," Hermione said sternly, not letting the ring of despair escape. This whole situation disturbed her, to see him so vulnerable and open. It wasn't him. It wasn't good. "Keep your arm around my shoulder. I'll just levitate you a little." 

Instead of being lighter when floating in the air, he was heavier as he leaned on her completely. "You don't look good," Hermione said casually as she led him up the stairs slowly. Or smell so good she noted, wrinkling her nose. 

"You're too kind. I know it's much worse than that, even laughable. I was st--" 

"You were in pain." Stubborn, but not stupid. Perhaps stupidly stubborn. 

"Nothing worse than what I've dealt with before. I always managed." He ducked his head as the ceiling over the stairs leveled before opening up into the hallway. 

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "I was here, you know. You could have asked for help. No, you didn't even have to ask. I would have given it to you; I _tried_. Look where it's got you. Duck your head." 

Ducking obediently, Severus shook his head. "I am sorry." 

"I know." She paused when she saw the state of the bed. "Can you stand while I... Oh, I have a better idea. You stink; it's time for a bath." 

"For Merlin's sake, I don't need a nursemaid." Protesting didn't get him far while he was floating in the air though, and he was well aware that his life was at her mercy. 

"No, you need a good kick in the arse. But since you're wounded, a bath will have to do." Hermione smiled up at her unwilling patient. "Don't worry, I'll have you on the road to health in no time." 

After Hermione had Severus situated in the hot water--with his sigh of approval--she stripped the bed and remade it with fresh linen, then went to make some food. Albus had informed her that a liquid diet would have to do for a week, though soft foods would do as well. No alcohol, nothing spicy, nothing harsh. A dull, safe diet. 

Crookshanks sat at her feet while she made a thick soup, the first sign of her cat since she had returned. "Everything's fine, Crookshanks," she said quietly, adding large noodles to the soup. "I'm sure he appreciated you staying with him." 

Meowing loudly, Crookshanks stood and rubbed against her legs. 

"I still think you're a traitor. Now don't trip me." She found a platter that looked distinctly out of place, and put the pot of soup, a pair of bowls, spoons, and two glasses of milk. She carried it upstairs with Crookshanks following dutifully behind her. 

"Severus? Are you still alive in there?" she called to the mostly-closed bathroom door, and set the platter on the dresser. 

"Barely." 

"Something to eat then? I have about three litres of soup here." There was the sound of water splashing a bit. 

"I don't think I'm that hungry." More splashing. 

"Do you need some help?" She was ready to administer it if needed, but she didn't want to baby him either. That would just add insult to the severe injury, and that was the last thing she wanted. If Albus Dumbledore trusted her to watch after him, then she would not let him down in any capacity. 

The splashing ceased. "No. Where are my clothes?" 

"Put on the robe for now. I think you'll be more comfortable in bed without anything on." 

There was a pause. "Saucy wench." 

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Of course, you'll be in it alone, but that's beside the point, isn't it? Your health is more important than some minor physical gratification." 

"I suppose, but I don't have to be happy about it." The door opened and he emerged, the robe on and tied very loosely in front. The steps he took were still small, shuffling and tentative, but he did look better overall. 

The two kept silent, small talk exhausted, until they were both eating soup. Severus was first to break the quiet. "If it were simply my health, I would cooperate more." 

Hermione took another spoonful of soup, blowing on it, then sipping it as she considered his words. "So you were being stubborn for something other than the joy of it?" 

"Yes." His bowl was emptied before he would speak again. "I have duties that I must attend to. I can't stay in a bed for three weeks. I must go." 

More soup was ladled into his bowl, and Hermione sat back to finish her own. "You were obviously... discovered during one of these duties. You can't very well return to them." 

"I know what you think of my job," he said evenly, strength and color returning to him. "You're right regarding any hope of infiltration; I can't. They'd prefer me dead. However, I've proven quite capable of espionage in general. Wire-taps and spy cameras, surveillance, Veritaserum, those sorts of things." 

Now that did make a bit more sense. "It doesn't matter. You still can't do it, especially not without your wand. Next time, you really will get killed." 

The half-eaten bowl of soup was forgotten. "That is simply a risk I will have to take. There is an event coming up that I must observe. The Death Eaters in attendance will more than make up for the risks." Severus reclined against the pillows and closed his eyes. "I must go." 

"No, you can't. There are risks, but there is also sure failure. You're looking at failure here." Hermione fixed him with her best disapproving glare, the one that always cowed Harry and Ron. "You won't go." 

"This information is vital. I _must_ go." 

"You can't, and if it's that important then... I'll go in your place." A small voice wondered if she had actually said that. The look on Severus' face proved that yes, she had. 

"You?" 

"Me." 

"You can't." 

"And neither can you." 

"You... don't know anything about being a spy!" 

Hermione leaned forward a little, resting her hand over his. "Then teach me." 

**TBC**


	8. The Coachwhip's Rebellious Student

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Rebellious Student

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

"Absolutely not. To even consider it I'd have to be insane or stupid. You'd be caught in an instant, and then do you know what would happen?" 

Hermione just watched him with an expectant and infuriatingly innocent look on her face. 

"Does the prospect of torture not scare you? They'd squeeze every last drop of information out of you, then leave your hollow body in the gutter for the vermin to find. Is that what you want?" His voice had grown steadily in volume until he was near shouting. 

"What I want is to discuss this quietly and rationally. Trying to scare me won't work, so let's just speak like civilized people. Shall we?" 

"NO!" 

Sitting back, Hermione pursed her lips. "What would it take to convince you? I'm perfectly able to do anything you ask if you'd like to test--" 

"I'd like you to not even consider such an idiotic, foolish, insane..." His eyes ticked back and forth, searching his mental thesaurus for the appropriately scathing adjective. "GRYFFINDOR idea!" 

"Thank you, professor. I take that as a compliment. Now, when is this event that I'm supposed to avoid at all costs or you'll give me a sharp tongue-lashing? And I think all that yelling is going to split something else if you're not careful." 

His face was suddenly devoid of anger. "I'm afraid, Miss Granger, I shan't tell you a thing. It will do you no good to ask me again." 

Hermione watched him for a moment. "I see. Very well. Are you finished?" She gestured to the soup. 

"I am." 

"Shall I bring up tea?" 

"Please." 

Quietly, with exaggerated care, Hermione gathered the dishes and settled them on the platter. Without saying another word, she left. 

Now Severus was on his guard. She had been far too accommodating there; she was certainly up to something. Obvious, but in his current condition, he had no way of being sure of anything. For five minutes he sat and contemplated what she might do, and for every possibility, he realized he had no way to counteract it. 

"I wasn't sure what kind you'd like, so I brought them all," Hermione said as she brought the tea service in. She set it next to the bed. "Would you care to pour?" 

"I would." There was only hot water in the pot, and the offer to pour was simply to allay his suspicions, which made him even more suspicious. Clear, steaming water filled his cup, then Hermione's. This did not help. He reached for the mint tea after he set the pot down, but paused. 

_It cures all ails._

_Is that your professional opinion?_

_Personal and professional._

His hand moved from the mint to the green. "I think perhaps the green tea today." Her face betrayed nothing, and Severus hid his frustration. 

"I rather liked the mint," Hermione said mildly, and reached for it. 

They each prepared their tea in silence, and after he watched Hermione take a sip, Severus took one. The mint would have been better, but the green had similar healing properties; he wouldn't complain. 

This continued, her sipping and watching him, and Severus reciprocating, until both their cups were empty. 

"More?" she offered. 

"Please." 

The process was repeated, but when Hermione's cup was half-consumed, she set it aside. "Now," she began, "I think we should talk." 

This had been coming. Nothing to be surprised about. 

"I know you don't want me to do this. Are you really so concerned about me?" 

"Yes." He blinked. "Damn you! I knew this would happen!" Veritaserum, but how? Severus' eyes locked on the pot. "You put it in the water?" 

"Yes." 

He couldn't help but laugh at the situation. "This is perfect then, Hermione. I suppose we're going to be exchanging some information now, since we've both had it. Tell me why you're so determined to do this." 

Hermione didn't seemed concerned in the least with the turn of events. She began speaking smoothly, none of the breathless, stilted qualities of the unwilling. "Because it's important, it needs to be done. I don't want the Ministry to do anything to you because you can't do what they want." 

"How sweet." 

"I think so. Now tell me what you're supposed to be spying on." 

The struggle not to speak of it was obvious, but in the end, the words tumbled from his lips. "A gathering of Death Eaters, business and pleasure, it might be called. Voldemort won't be there. They'll be discussing future raids, and after they've all had too much to drink, talk far too much for their own good." 

Tapping her chin thoughtfully with her right index finger, Hermione nodded. "And you're supposed to go and collect information about these raids?" 

"Yes." 

"Where will it be?" 

Again the struggle, but it was no use. This was not the child's version he had kept at Hogwarts; this was full strength, and it would probably have him spilling secrets for the next week in his battered condition. "I don't know. I suspect it will be at Malfoy's. If not, I have to follow him from there." 

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Malfoy. How could you stand that man?" 

"I couldn't. He is moderately intelligent, but too arrogant and pompous to ever do anything useful other than throw money at things. His knowledge of curses is only slightly better than a retarded pigeon's." That confession brought out a smile; he had never thought to put those particular feelings into words. 

Laughing, Hermione waved her hand. "Go ahead, ask me something." 

"Why did you kiss me at the Ministry?" 

"Because I wanted to." 

Severus sighed. "Fine. Why did you want to kiss me then?" 

"Lots of reasons. Nerves, mostly. I wasn't thinking completely clearly, and you were so close I just did it." 

"But you wanted to." 

"Yes." 

"This is tiresome. Are you sure you're under the effects of the Veritaserum?" 

"Quite." Hermione then smiled pleasantly at him. 

"Do you want to kiss me now?" 

"I certainly wouldn't mind." 

"Do you know how infuriating you are?" 

"Yes. It's quite clear from the look on your face." 

"Then come here." 

"This is a truth potion, not the Imperius. I answer your questions, not obey your commands." 

"I doubt you'd obey them if you _were_ under the Imperius curse. Now come here; I'm too hurt to ravish you." He took hold of her arm and dragged her forward. Hermione resisted very little. 

*******

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked, running her hand lightly across his chest. 

"Yes. Damn it. This potion isn't going to wear off any time soon." 

"All the better for me. Now, when is this meeting going to take place?" 

"In four days. Sundown." Severus sighed. "There's only one way to keep you from asking me questions." 

Hermione covered his mouth with her hand. "And you've distracted me enough with that. You really won't teach me?" 

He removed her hand from his mouth and held it gingerly. "I don't want to, but I have to now. If I don't, you'll just go to that meeting completely unprepared and get hurt. Probably die." 

"Then we should get started." 

*******

Four days. Hermione knew that she would be getting very little sleep in that time. She would need every scrap of knowledge, every spell that would give her that fighting edge, and she would need her nerves to be finely tuned. And The Cloak. She would have to learn to enjoy its touch. 

"The cloak is your greatest ally. It is your _only_ ally." Severus leaned back and shook his head while staring at the ceiling. "If I could teach you to be an animagus, I would. Knowing you, you'd probably turn into something huge and showy though." 

"You mean you...?" 

"Oh yes, I forgot that when I told you, you weren't listening. I am, but as it has nothing to do with the situation at hand, we should save it for another time." His eyes fixed on her as he tilted his head forward again. "I can teach you to use it, but you'll have to... tame it." 

"Tame it? Then it is sentient." That was an eerie thought, and she was supposed to wrap it around her? 

"Not strictly speaking. It's too difficult to explain right now. Go get it." 

The look on his face wasn't terribly encouraging, and Hermione felt a tremor of fear run through her. This wasn't a game, and if the person supposed to teach her what she needed to survive didn't have confidence, then how was she supposed to feel? 

This was only the first day though. Four days wasn't a lot, but she knew she could learn a lot in that short amount of time. Enough to keep her alive; enough to keep her out of Lucius Malfoy's hands. 

Her hand caressed the cloak, and goosebumps ran across her arms. Before she hadn't noticed it, but now she couldn't help it. Power of the most basic form, raw, elemental... It was frightening in that sense as well. How a person, even a powerful wizard, could have ever tamed this she didn't know, and she definitely wasn't sure she'd be able to. 

Carrying it in her arms, up the stairs, Hermione noted the vibrations were less frantic, urgent than before. They had dulled themselves to be more of a... purr. The thing really was alive; Hermione could almost feel it move in her arms. 

"I'm not sure about this, Severus," she said as she re-entered the bedroom. "It feels..." The thing slithered out of her arms and landed on the bed in a pile. 

"Having second thoughts?" 

"Yes, but I'll... just have to deal with it." Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Hermione ran her hand over the fabric again. It wasn't natural. Not at all. Suddenly, with hollow, haunted eyes, she looked at him. "How am I going to do this?" His reaction was one she hadn't been expecting; she had forgotten about the Veritaserum. 

His jaw clenched, but the words ground out anyway. "You will because you feel you have to. And once you commit to something out of sense of duty, you can't go back. Ever. You will do it through sheer tenacity." 

Hermione noticed his eyes more than anything. They shone with a fierce sort of pride. Duty. He knew what he spoke of. She nodded. "I will, of course. There's simply nothing else to do about it." 

His response was a silent nod, and they remained there in silence for a good minute. 

"Would you..." she began, and looked down at her hands. "Would you think I was being horribly childish if I said I was afraid?" 

"No." Strong and steady, still under the Veritaserum. 

"Good, because I am. I still don't know how you do it. Sheer nerve, I suppose." Hermione grasped her hands tightly and looked at Severus. "All right. I'm ready." 

Apparently he had been waiting for this because he spoke immediately. "You must trust it, Hermione. You don't have to like it, but you have to trust that it has the power to hide you. This is no Armageddon cloak; it won't protect you. It is... hmm." He looked out the window. "That's a demonstration to save until later. At night, and only at night, will it work. You must remember this." 

Hermione nodded, and her hand rested on the cloak at her side. "Only at night." A broken laugh escaped. "It makes sense, doesn't it?" 

"Yes." Severus frowned and rolled his eyes. "Get used to it first. Put it on. You'll find that once you've become accustomed to the feeling, it is far easier to use." 

"All right." Hermione's voice quavered, but she stood and wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. She bit down on her lower lip so hard at the initial sensation, she tasted the coppery blood. This was worse than before, so much more intense. "I feel sick," she murmured, and put on hand on the bed to steady herself. 

"Relax. Don't fight it. You can feel it, and that's what you need to take hold of, control it." 

His voice reached Hermione from very far away as she dedicated most of her awareness to cloak and what it was doing to her. A giant magical fist had her in its grasp and held her. Not tight enough to cause pain, but firm, unyielding. It had her. Her mouth opened to say something, but instead she took a great breath of air. "Heavy..." 

"Breathe deeply, regularly. Relax, Hermione." 

A great weight was on her chest, making it difficult to draw in air, but she tried to do as he instructed, and it did help a little. Concentrate. Breathe. Concentrate on the breathing. Don't concentrate on the fist, don't think about Voldemort or the Death Eaters. Breathing. In. Breathing. Out. Relax, and don't fight it. Go with the current; don't swim against it. 

That restored some of the strength in her wobbling legs, and she opened her eyes to find herself face-first in the quilt on the bed. Pushing herself upright wasn't as difficult as she thought it might be as bodily control was slowly returning. Yes, her hands trembled almost violently, but she had good motor control over her arms, and her legs were growing steadier by the second. "I think I hurt myself," Hermione said, her voice quavering as her legs had been. 

Severus chuckled. "Welcome to the club. Sit down before you collapse to the floor." 

Turning around, her hands resting on the bed so the tremors didn't show, Hermione lowered herself gingerly on the edge of the bed. It felt like her entire body was thrumming, most notably in her feet and hands. "I feel like... I'm not sure, but I'm not sure if I like it or hate it." 

"You will get used to it. You'll learn to like it." 

Hermione shivered and hugged herself. "I know," she whispered, because she had heard in his voice that it was something unavoidable. 

"You should wear it as much as possible in the time left." 

She grimaced. 

"Have faith in yourself. It will grow tolerable and then even enjoyable." 

"I don't think I want it to." 

"Of course not. And you don't want to be here, but you are. You don't want to do this, but you will. You didn't want to like me--" 

"And I still don't." Hermione glared at him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Maybe it's time to see if that Veritaserum has worn off yet. When you were in school, who did you fancy?" 

Lip curling and nostrils flaring in indignation, Severus mumbled through clenched teeth, "None of--Samantha--your damned busi--Harcortt--ness. Damn it." 

Hermione grinned. "A Slytherin? What year was she in? Did you ever tell her?" 

He was positively snarling at her now. "Hufflepuff. Year younger. And she would have run in fear if I ever attempted to speak to her, been horrified to know I actually was interested in her." 

The humor had abruptly been bled from the question, and Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Sorry," she mumbled, and looked at the wall, away from his angry gaze. 

A heavy sigh. "I suppose it's not your fault. I knew that when I was in school, and I still remember it. Hermione, look at me." 

She did so, and was surprised to see he didn't appear angry at all. 

Severus shrugged. "A painful fact of life. I'm used to them. Go ahead, ask me how many girls I asked out when I was in school." 

"How--" 

"None. Why bother when you know what the answer will be... assuming they stay in one spot long enough to even give an answer. If you think my interest in you seems a bit... unnatural, then perhaps it is. I'm not proud of being a social outcast, but I won't make excuses either." 

Nibbling on her lower lip, Hermione considered his words. In the end, it boiled down to him being open and honest with her, which she thought amazing. Not completely open, but more than she had known him to be. "Severus, how do you feel about me?" she asked slowly, looking straight into his dark eyes. 

They flashed, and panic shone in them for an instant. "I am... stupidly attracted to you. It is dangerous for you and myself, but I can't help it. I can't help that because you responded to my advances, it's too difficult to just stop now." His eyes were half-lidded, heavy. "I can't help that I don't remember the last time anyone actually wanted my company." 

"No, Severus, don't." 

"You asked, and I had to tell you the truth. I hate this. I hate being an invalid and having to tell the truth about everything, and I hate not being able to do the only thing I'm useful for." He passed one hand through his lank hair. "And I really hate that because I can't do my job, you're in danger now. It's not proper." 

Hermione sat up straight and tossed her hair back; she looked at him defiantly. "Because I'm a woman?" 

"No. Because you deserve better than to do the filthy work I do. You are more important than I am. I hate Veritaserum, do you know that?" 

"I know; I'm sorry." She lay her hand over Severus' and finally felt something of the cloak's powers in her touch. That raw power that had been so uncomfortable and intimidating at first was now channeled through her body and filtered through her emotions. A healing touch, a soothing caress. 

"You're doing it," Severus breathed, and relaxed into the pillows. "I could never do anything like it; I could never care about anyone like this." He turned his hand over and held her own. "Do you see now why I needed you?" 

"Not really, but I'm willing to accept that you... think you do." 

"Think... Ah yes, when I no longer need you to babysit me, then I won't need you, correct? No answer? Your dose of Veritaserum has worn off already then. How fortunate." Slowly he drew his hand from Hermione's. "Go on then. Do whatever it is you normally do during the day. We can end our... association now." 

Hermione watched him, but he was not going to withdraw his statement. As before, he did not appear angry, but more haggard, withdrawn, even sad. "I didn't--" 

"Go! I don't _need_ you here to watch me suffer. I am quite adept on doing it alone." Beyond those words, he would not acknowledge her, or even look at her. His eyes stared resolutely on the clock as the hands moved slowly. 

Standing, Hermione looked down on him. "I could help you, if you'd let me. You said so." When she went unanswered though, he remained watching the clock stonily, she sighed and left the room. She had learned a little, and apparently would have to learnt he rest on her own. Why had she insisted on playing that stupid game? Forcing him to tell her those things for her own amusement... Too comfortable, in just these few days with him, and now look. 

Hermione's feet took her automatically to the library, and before she had even stepped through the doorway, the book was flying into her hand. Then as she sat down in the nearest chair, it was opening and turning to just the page she wanted. Long into the night, Hermione sat and studied the book. 

*******

Her appetite soared, and Hermione considered it had something to do with the cloak. It certainly made sense, but she was not going to ask Severus about it. In fact, Hermione was debating whether she should bother to get him any breakfast. If he was so determined to end their association as he called it, then perhaps he could get his own food. 

This isn't fair. You teased him, made him talk about things he didn't want to, and now you're mad because it disturbs you to consider he might have feelings for you? Hermione Granger, now it's your turn to grow up. 

Her inner voice was the most sensible she had heard in days, and she hated it. It didn't disturb her to think he had feelings for her; it disturbed her that he was fixated on her. After all he had called them unnatural, and that-- 

And what has he done that's so terrible, so unnatural then? You tell him how much you hate it when he seduces you, and yet you actually encourage it. You appear more angry at your own feelings than at his. 

Hermione suddenly turned on her heel and hurled the glass in her hand at the wall. It shattered, but it did not help her feelings in the least. Glaring at the pieces, she waved her wand and caused them to reform as a glass. It floated in the air for a moment before Hermione jerked her hand to the left, and the glass flew through the air and smashed against another wall. 

She did that four more times. 

*******

"I blame myself. It would be stupid to blame you; you're only a cat." 

Crookshanks mewed sadly from his place at Severus' side. 

"I shouldn't have... have let her... I should drag myself up and do something about this. She's being a terror." Severus' hand fell briefly to the cat's head, then drew back the covers. Hermione hadn't shown her face in his room for two days. 

Her movements around the house had been very clear, usually punctuated with the sounds of cursing or things breaking, but she hadn't brought anything to eat or drink, even to just poke her head into the room to call him names. Crookshanks was worried, which worried him even more than he already was. So he gingerly pulled on his robe, feeling sore, and hurt, and weak, and tied it shut. One bit of good news, that: his stomach was no longer ridiculously swollen, though it still showed the effects of the spell Dumbledore had used in large patches of red, blotchy irritation. Only he would end up having an allergic reaction. 

"Hermione?" he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Hermione?" he repeated, with more strength, out into the hall. "I need to talk, Hermione." 

From downstairs, she responded. "Our association has been ended, Severus. Did you forget?" 

The tone of her voice raised warning flags immediately. And he was still under the waning effects of the Veritaserum. "I don't care; I need to talk to you." 

"If you can bring yourself to stoop so low then, how can I refuse?" 

He could hear the sardonic smile in her words, and shivered as a reply came easily from his mouth. "Easily." A mental curse. He had to get a grip on it; he could resist as long as he was careful. "Crookshanks," Severus said quietly, and waited for the cat to leap from the bed and stand by his leg. With what little support he could muster in the cat, he headed down the stairs, his eyes taking in everything. 

Outwardly, his house was the same, but there was a darker undercurrent to it than before. Before... before two days ago. "Hermione, I shouldn't have stopped," Severus continued, panic blooming in him. "There are still things you need to know about--" 

"I know all I need to." As if from thin air, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at him. It was a smile of a shark. 

"Hermione, the cloak--" 

"Shut up, Severus. If you cared, you wouldn't have been such a selfish prick just because I didn't want to be your little fuck-toy." 

He opened his mouth to say something harsh, then shut it quickly. That wouldn't work; this was dangerous ground he was treading on now. "You're right. It's my fault. I'm sorry. Now can I speak to you about the cloak? I think you'd find it rather fascinating." It had been hard to miss the book clutched in her left hand, wand in her right. "Plans must be made for the upcoming gathering as well, don't you think?" 

Hermione's smile faded, and she looked simply intent now. "Yes, you're quite right. That's... tomorrow, right?" 

Descending the last few stairs as quickly as he could manage, Severus took Hermione's arm gently. "Yes, tomorrow. Let's sit in the kitchen. I'm feeling a bit peckish." Starved and nearing delusional actually, but for this exchange, he would need to be as lucid and rational as ever. 

"Why thank you, Severus." Together they walked slowly to the kitchen. "You're looking a bit pale; would you like me to make you a sandwich?" Hermione offered, polite as any maiden. 

"I would consider it a gift from heaven, Hermione." 

She beamed at him, and then went about the task at hand. "This cloak is really amazing," she chattered idly. "I can see how you would find it so useful. I tried it the other night and couldn't believe it. They never saw me! I mean, they did magical sweeps and everything, and I just stood there." She chuckled, and it was the only indication that there was anything wrong. It was dark and wholly unpleasant sounding. "I could have hit them both with whatever hex or curse I wanted, even an Unforgivable, and they wouldn't have seen it coming." 

"So... you think you're up to the task?" There was no doubt she would say yes; Severus imagined she would agree to try to fly into the sun right then. 

"Certainly!" Hermione said brightly, and set a thick and agreeably mouth-watering sandwich in front of him. "I can't see that it would be any problem while I have this cloak." She spun around and allowed the cloak to flair dramatically. 

With a wan smile, Severus began to eat his sandwich. 

After he had finished, unfortunately, Hermione wouldn't listen to anything he had to say. She would not hear any further instructions regarding the cloak, the Death Eaters, Malfoy manor, personal safety, or anything at all. 

"Please listen, Hermione. They--" 

"Won't even know I'm there, Severus." Hermione smiled, but it was that shark-like expression once more. "Don't you worry about it." 

"It's not the mission I'm worried about." 

To his surprise, Hermione leaned down and kissed him. It was quick, but firmly on the lips. "You worry too much. And you should be in bed." She took his arm in a grip slightly gentler than iron and led him to the stairs and up. 

"Hermione," he dared as they entered the bedroom, "I never wanted you to be a... fuck-toy." It worried him further when she laughed. 

"I know that. The stress is getting to you. Let me worry about this, and you just rest." Her hands fell immediately to the belt of his robe and untied it. "Can't wear this to bed though." She parted the garment and looked at his stomach. "This looks much better. How is it feeling?" 

He hissed when she ran her hand across it and over his ribs. "Not good. I walk slowly for a reason." 

Hermione nodded, almost thoughtfully, and suddenly dropped to her knees in front of him. 

"What the hell are--stop that!" Flailing desperately at his robe, Severus back-pedaled and covered himself. "This is no time to be... to be doing that sort of thing!" Ignoring her protests, he got into bed, still wearing the robe, and pulled the covers up. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione." 

"I was just going to give you a--" 

"The sandwich was enough! Thank you. I think, yes, I just need to rest now." 

"You're sure?" 

"No." He frowned. 

Hermione was delighted though. "Oh, you're _still_ under Veritaserum! Let's play a game!" 

"Hermione, this is not the time!" She would anyway, but at least with this warning he would be able to steel himself to her questions. 

"We have plenty of time, don't we, Severus?" Hermione smiled slyly and sat on the edge of the bed. 

The game had begun. 

Turning his eyes to the clock, Severus took a deep breath. "No, we don't. You must--" 

"So my first question is..." She put on a big show of thinking it over. "Have you ever had sex in this cloak?" 

He did not need to wait for the Veritaserum to catch up to him. "No. Now stop with the foolish questions. This is not the time to be playing games!" he snapped, trying to intimidate her into reason. 

"A pity. I bet it's really erotic, don't you think?" Her hands ran down the glossy lining, and with a satisfied smile on her lips, Hermione shivered. 

Too slow this time, too distracted by the movement of her hands. "Yes. Hermione! Miss Granger! I will not listen to you further. This conversation is at an end, and I want you to leave this room." 

Hermione pouted, and Severus knew he was in trouble. "Do you really?" 

"No. I want nothing more than for you to stay here with me and forget this task you think you have to do, but I know you'll go anyway and I am powerless to stop you." He took her hand and looked away from the clock to her face. "Be careful, Hermione. Be very, very careful." 

"If you weren't such a grand arse, I'd say you were sweet." She leaned forward and kissed him very softly. "I'll be careful just because you want me to." 

When the sun finally dropped below the tall trees that lined the street, Hermione left a bowl of soup and a plate of sandwiches next to Severus' bed. "I'll be back later," she said resolutely, and nodded. 

"I know you will." 

**TBC**


	9. The Coachwhip's Good Tidings

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Good Tidings

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

"This one? Or maybe this..." Severus looked to his furry companion. "Which do you think she'll like more?" 

Crookshanks looked intently at the magazine and the two pictures indicated. He pawed at the page until it started to curl over on itself. 

"Neither one then? You're harder to please than she is. I'm glad I don't have to shop for you." Severus made a thoughtful sound and flipped a few pages in the catalog. "More tasteful, you think? There's something to be said for trashy, you realize. Or, being a cat, perhaps you don't." 

He flipped past a few more pages of glamorous women in their underwear and sometimes less, until one picture made something in him sit up and take a whole lot of notice. "You can pick the classy underwear, and I'll get her this," he said, his eyes glittering. "Take heart in knowing she'll kill me when she sees this." 

Crookshanks stood, purring loudly, and butted his head against Severus' hand. "Yes, I thought you'd be entertained by that." The fingers of his other hand not occupied by the cat were caressing the picture. "And I'll be entertained by this..." 

He shut the catalog abruptly. "I think I need to get out more." 

*******

"...my hair. It's gone, right?" 

"Yes, it's all gone. I don't know what you're so concerned about; it was just mistletoe." 

"Just mistletoe? Tell that to Philip. No less than ten times did he try to kiss me?" 

"And who is this Philip? Someone I need to introduce to a few of the more creative hexes?" 

Hermione looked to the top of the stairs and smiled as she removed her heavy winter cloak. "Nobody you need to turn your great and terrible powers on, Severus. Just a prank at work today. You remember Susan--" 

"Bones. Hufflepuff. Very adequate in class. Yes, I remember." 

To Hermione's trained eye, everything about him changed. His posture was more rigid, his steps lighter, his gaze suddenly sharpened, and his voice dropped in volume. The old professor mode. She looked to Susan, the look on her face, and couldn't help but laugh. "Stop it. We're not in school now. No one will be removing points or giving detentions." She took Susan's cloak as well and shook her head. "Don't mind him. He's just pretending to be a rotten bastard." 

Susan smiled weakly, glancing furtively at her old teacher as he came down the stairs. "Uh... hi... Professor." 

"I no longer teach," he answered stiffly, still looking down on them from the middle of the staircase. 

"Lucky kids," Hermione said lightly. "Something to take the chill off? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, something stronger?" she asked, and with Susan's elbow in her grasp, headed for the kitchen. 

"Sure." 

Shaking his head, Severus had to wonder if there was anybody outside himself at the Ministry that took the work seriously. Most likely, this impromptu get-together had to do with the annual Christmas party. An event he never attended because he considered it a frivolous waste of time, energy, and money. And considering he didn't plan on attending it this year either, it was wise to keep out of the way, lest he be dragged into it all. Silently he retreated upstairs to continue picking out gifts. 

Two big mugs of hot chocolate were down on the table before he had even finished climbing the stairs. "Anyone can make hot chocolate," Hermione began, sitting across from Susan, "but only from a Potions Master can you learn to make the best damned cup in under fifteen seconds. He comes in right handy, I tell you." 

Again Susan smiled weakly before sipping from her mug. "It's just... Don't take it wrong, but--" 

"I know. It's weird or creepy or gross, or all three. It's a really long story, and I don't know if the Ministry has declassified it yet, but at the very beginning, neither of us were too happy about it." She set down the mug and leaned slightly over the table. "I know what people thought of me in school, don't worry about it, so I can say it freely that... well, he pushes all my buttons. Intellectual, and the standard ones." 

Susan had the good grace to blush at this. "I can see how that would interest you. It just is strange, that's all. He wasn't very nice." 

That brought Hermione to laughter. "He's still not! Perfectly polite though, so don't worry about it. Besides, we have a party to plan, and he won't want to be within a sea dragon's length of it, so... And I need to get Philip back." 

Upstairs, Crookshanks was sitting in front of the catalog, open once again, and looking very intently at a page. When Severus entered the room, the cat meowed loudly and planted his paw squarely on top of a picture. 

"Your contribution to Hermione's collection of tasteful lingerie? Is she actually aware that a cat picks out a sizable percentage of her wardrobe?" 

Crookshanks just looked at him, golden eyes half-lidded, expectant. 

Severus rolled his eyes. "Blue or pink? I'm partial to the blue myself." 

A loud meow in the affirmative, and Crookshanks butted his hand. 

"We agree then. Demi or deep plunge?" 

Crookshanks pawed at the small inset picture. 

"No, she doesn't seem the 'scrunch my assets up into a big pillowy mass under my robe to excite lonely wizards' type. Pity. And I'll get the matching--" Severus swatted the cat's paw away. "No, I won't get her that. Your mistresses buttocks will remain covered." He lowered his voice and bent his head nearer to the cat. "Now comes the most important part." 

He hid away the current catalog and pulled out a different one. 

Some time later, closer to midnight than either woman had realized, they were ending their planning session. 

"You'll have to show me the secret of that instant hot chocolate some time, Hermione." Susan slipped the cloak over her shoulders and fastened it. "The party will be great... and Philip won't know what hit him." She laughed along with Hermione at that, and they bid one another a final farewell. 

"Finalized Voldemort's downfall already?" 

"I could ask the same," Hermione said, not allowing anything to dampen her good mood. "You were awfully quiet up there all that time." 

"Should I have been breaking things to assure you of my innocence?" He folded his arms; with him at the top of the stairs, Hermione could almost remember what it was like to be in his class her first year at Hogwarts. Apparently a skill he hadn't lost, he managed to look as impressive as she remembered him from the earliest days of their uncommon relationship. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

The door opened under the touch of her fingertips, and she swept in. The door behind her closed silently, and for a glorious minute, Hermione basked in the familiarity of the house. 

"You've returned." 

Her head tilted slowly, her eyes taking in the stairs, and then his bare feet at the top. Bare feet, exposed shins, same shimmery grey robe tied firmly about his waist, arms folded across his chest, hair lank and slightly tangled, and his expression... Tight, worried, curious, relieved. "I have." 

Even in that robe, she could sense the command his presence demanded. 

"What did you learn?" 

Hermione took a deep breath. "You should be in bed. And you should have slept, though I know you didn't." It was harder than she would have thought to force herself up the stairs where he was waiting. She made it though, refusing to let any weakness show. "To bed with you." 

His arm was unresisting as she took it, and led him to the bedroom. 

"You're not usually so cooperative," she murmured as she settled him in the bed. 

"After the last few days, I don't dare be anything else." 

"Yes, well, I think you needed it." She fussed with the comforter over him, then started to stand, but his hand grabbed her firmly around the upper arm. "Wha--" 

"Hermione..." Severus' hand brushed the hood from her face, revealing shadows beneath her eyes, the wild state of her hair, and the definite haunted look on her face. "Sit, Hermione." 

"I can't. I have to..." She pulled away, but his fingers locked on the fabric of the cloak, and it was swept from her shoulders. 

Everything crashed down at that moment. Hermione sagged like her bones were made of rotten wood, and she collapsed on the bed. A thin wail of anguish filled the room and Hermione's sad frame began to shake. "What did I do?" 

After just getting comfortably ensconced in bed, Severus threw back the covers and got out. Leaving Hermione on the bed, sobbing, he hobbled over to the workroom and gathered an armload of potions. The next day, all of his Veritaserum was getting dumped out; there would be no repeat incidence. 

"I-I think I'm going to be sick." Hermione made a retching sound, but nothing came of the effort. She moaned inarticulately as Severus returned to his spot in the bed. "You must hate me. I hate me. I saw them..." 

"Hermione, come here." Taking hold of her arm again, Severus pulled her up gently until she was laid out next to him. Her eyes were red and raw, bloodshot. It didn't help that she looked terrible outside of that. "Drink this. It will help." 

"Is it poison?" 

"No." 

"Then it won't help." She put her arms over her face. "Don't look at me. Just tell me to leave and I will. I don't deserve any help." 

"Drink this. It will help." 

Hermione moved her arms and glared at him weakly. "Did you not ju--" She swallowed quickly as a bottle was placed at her lips and emptied. And immediately she felt very far away, very loose, very pliable, and not very coherent. She groaned again, her entire body going limp. 

"Good, how do you feel?" 

As far away as she felt, Severus sounded so very close, inside her head even. It was an effort to even wiggle her fingers, let alone lift her hand to touch him. "I..." Eyes rolling, trying to focus on anything and failing miserably, Hermione closed them. 

"Time for a nap, I think. Relax. Feels like a cloud, doesn't it? Floating on a cloud." 

"Mm." Floating... So nice, better than being filled with all that surging power, trying to keep it under control. So nice, in fact, she never even really understood what was going on as he Severus started to undress her. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

He stayed up late that night, reading. It wasn't out of the ordinary, but Hermione would have liked to actually sleep with him once in a while. Well, fall asleep and wake up with him; she was fairly certain he slept at some point there, but the evidence was extremely vague. 

For about an hour, Hermione slept, but at one in the morning, she woke alone. Feeling out of sorts, she draped her robe over her shoulders and headed to the library. "Sev'rus?" 

"I thought you were asleep." 

"I was." She half-stifled a yawn. "You should be too." 

"I'm fine. You go back to sleep." 

"Not without you. I..." She retied the belt of her robe, not looking at him. "Please." She could feel his eyes on her, picking her apart to her core. 

He stood and a small breath of relief escaped. "Thank you," she said quietly. 

"Do you want a dreamless sleep potion?" he asked as he put an arm around her shoulders and escorted her back to the bedroom. 

His nearness staved off the shivers that had started to take hold. "No, I'm fine. I just..." Her hand sought his and squeezed it. 

"Nightmares?" 

"Not really. Not like normal nightmares." Hermione shook her head, trying to get rid of the anxious feeling in her chest, worse in some ways than an honest, screaming, shivering nightmare. "It was just... after. Not a nightmare; just unpleasant." It stayed with her, that experience, and though it didn't cause her any trouble in her waking hours, at night... 

Hermione leaned against him and tried to will away the remnants of her dream. She wouldn't let go of his arm until he was in place next to her in the bed, and then she curled up against him, staring into the darkness. 

The tips of his fingers brushed through her hair, a touch softer than a breeze. 

He didn't speak, though Hermione felt him take breath enough to begin more than once. There was little he could say though, nothing he hadn't already, and it had only been a nightmare this time. Just those phantom memories that bothered her when her mind was most vulnerable, the only time it could wield its influence. With his warmth, she would be sleep easier this night. When his arm settled firmly around her shoulders, Hermione sighed, relaxed, and let sleep come to her. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Hermione's eyes were wide, unseeing, as she sat in the hot, foamy water. Physically she felt much refreshed, however sore, but the jumbled memories of the past four days were sitting very firmly in the front of her thoughts. 

"What did you see, Hermione? Tell me now so you won't have to repeat it for the Ministry." 

Something about the quality of his voice made her shiver, but it was not with pleasure. It was oily, dark, unpleasant, like that dank room at the Malfoy estate. His hands were warm though, and the pressure he exerted on her shoulders and upper back welcome. Thumbs ranged briefly up her neck, fingers gently caressing her throat. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't even manage a squeak, let alone coherent sentences. 

"I don't want to push you, Hermione, but it's something you have to do." Sliding down her arms, beneath the sudsy surface, his hands moved smoothly, purposefully. "There's very little chance that I haven't seen it, so don't be afraid or embarrassed to tell me." 

Still Hermione could not speak of it. Her mind was willing enough, or so it seemed, but there was a block in her throat that simply would not allow it. Those words, to describe the events of the night, would not be allowed loose. "I... can't," she whispered, and leaned back against him. Wet friction, damp heat, almost uncomfortable where the smooth layers of their skin met, except where his arms wound their way around her. 

When he spoke again, it was in her ear, softly, a sigh almost, that made her gently bite her lower lip. "You will have the strength to. You must." His hold tightened very briefly. "Remember the duty you gave yourself to." 

Hermione bit down harder on her lip, and the pain brought tears to her eyes with surprising ease. She shook her head. "I didn't want that," she whispered, and closed her eyelids. There was silence outside his breath moving across her ear, and then the muted light on the other side of her eyes dimmed. For a moment she hoped she had passed out. 

"You can only hide from it for so long." 

No, she hadn't passed out. Opening her eyes revealed that he had simply reduced the lights to a few flickering candles, giving the bath a much more intimate feeling than before. Without thinking, she tried to retreat further back into him and did not speak. 

"Will I have to use Veritaserum?" 

"The..." Were these words really coming from her mouth? "The Imperius." She felt him jerk against her. Apparently she really had said it. It was so much easier that way, to feel that, as soon as he ordered her to tell him everything, the world was a wonderful place as long as she did what he wanted. Wonderful even through the pain of reliving it all. 

"I will not. A pensieve, Veritaserum, but I will not use the Imperius curse on you. I will not make it so simple for you; this is a thing you must face." 

His hands moved very surely over her skin, and Hermione concentrated on the pleasant sensations in them rather than his words. Those were biting and hostile, and his hands were so gentle and loving. Hermione choked back a sudden sob. "I can't," she repeated, feeling as if those were the only two words in her vocabulary. 

"You can." 

"I don't want to." That was different, but no less frustrating. "Don't make me." 

He sighed, and his breath across her damp skin made her shiver. "I don't want to, and if you volunteer the information I won't have to. However..." One finger trailed from the crook of her elbow, up her arm, and down her side, to the point where her legs folded. "I will if I have to." His lips caressed the soft skin behind her ear briefly, and he started speaking again. "You saw them, saw the Death Eaters?" 

Hermione nodded, feeling her stomach boil with threatening violence. 

"They stayed at Malfoy's?" 

It would have been better if they had not. She wouldn't have been able to follow them then. The barest of nods. 

"The dungeons. You used the cloak to get inside. Muggles, Muggle-borns... Tortured the ones that screamed the loudest, killed the ones that wouldn't scream at all, and--" 

"No." It came out with strength Hermione hadn't known possible that night. His hands stopped their soothing touches. "No, they didn't do any of that." And that did it. Those simple words opened the gates to allow the rest of it to rush out in a painful, breathless rush. "They weren't doing that. I think they were... interrogating them. There weren't any Muggles, and they were all in those masks." 

His hands started again, this time stronger and more coaxing somehow. Continue, they said. 

"They asked things about the Ministry. Tortured them. There were three of them; two men and a woman. I didn't recognize any of them; I don't know where they came from. They asked about..." Hermione swallowed past the sickening lump in her throat as tears stung her eyes. "They died because..." 

"They wanted to know about Potter, of course." 

She nodded. 

"And you." 

Hermione could only hang her head, and tears ran freely over her cheeks. 

His hands stopped, and his arms went around her. She stayed that way for a long time, held tightly against him and waited. 

"I couldn't do anything," she said simply, closing her eyes once more. "I watched them torture those people... They weren't even aurors. They couldn't really defend themselves. I think if they had... had... If they had enjoyed it, been more evil, it would have been easier." 

"Easier to hate them rather than be sickened by them. Hate them for being evil, not be confused at how they could so easily just throw away another human being? A waste of life. That's what it is, isn't it?" 

"Yes." Her voice was small, like a child's. "It was just so horrible." 

"Of course, but... what really was it, Hermione? What did this to you? You don't fool me." 

Hermione took a deep breath. No, she couldn't fool him because he knew. It was what put her there in the first place. "I don't know how," she began quietly, "but they found out someone was there. They knew I was there." She felt his intake of breath, heard the almost silent mutterings. "I made it outside at least. If I hadn't, I doubt I would have made it back here at all. I don't know how many there were... Everything looked the same, so dark, and I... I..." 

"You panicked." 

"Yes." Stupid, worthless, failure at the one thing she had been so sure she could do. Hermione hung her head and just wanted to sink beneath the water, but his arms kept her from moving. 

A heavy sigh, and his arms swallowed her for a brief and pleasing moment. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You were unprepared for it. The important thing is that you are here now. You escaped. Did they find out who you were, or just...?" 

"I don't think so." A shudder rippled through her. "No, they couldn't have, because if they did, then I don't think I would have gotten away so... cleanly." Clean. Her escape had been anything but. 

One arm released her and plucked the cloth from the edge of the bath. He drew it back, dragging it across her arm to her shoulder. It made slow circles there as he spoke. "So tell me what else it is that concerns you. Is it the fact that they could have caught you? What they might have done if they had?" 

Hermione shook her head slowly. Those thoughts were horrible enough in their own right, but also unreal, and her mind refused to wrap around the possibility of those horrors. "No. I... I used..." 

"I see." 

The cloth moved from her shoulder to the back of her neck. The heat worked its way into her frayed nerves, relaxing them one at a time. "I belong in Azkaban for it. I used them. I used _it_. I used it when I didn't have to. Stupefy or even Expelliarmus would have worked the same. I didn't have to..." She began to worry at her lower lip once again, where it was already damaged, adding to the pain there. 

"Hermione, you must understand, the cloak has endured years of learning, if you will, the Dark Arts. I know it; I've had to deal with it, the urges and false instincts it gives out." He lowered his mouth to her bare shoulder and kissed her there. 

She felt him smile against her skin. "I... I treated you horribly." 

"Don't tell me that's more horrifying than unleashing an Unforgivable?" he asked, and his voice held tones of light amusement and self-mocking. 

"It is because I would _never_ do anything like that. I was awful to you, and I made a complete fool of myself. And you were completely right: I could have died, or worse, because I wouldn't listen to you." 

"Oh Hermione," he said and kissed up her neck, his hand with the cloth ranging to her upper chest and lower, beneath the water. "Don't you think I knew what was happening? If I had been whole, had my wand, it wouldn't have been any effort at all to deal with your behavior. Don't feel bad for what you've done." 

"Little comfort there. Too late not to. If I had just listened, then..." 

"Hermione, what did they do to you? Tell me the entire story." 

"There were... so many of them. I couldn't possibly escape without taking... some damage." His hand had stopped, and she wasn't sure she could go on without his relaxing rhythm. 

"What sort of damage?" 

Dark and dangerous, promising pain. Hermione took hold of his hand under the water and squeezed it more for her own reassurance than anything. "Nothing too awful. I think." 

"I will tell Albus then. He will--" 

"No, I'm not going to be poked and prodded when I feel fine." If only she could hold herself with the same confidence she managed in her voice. 

"What did you get hit by?" 

"I'm not sure. I didn't much..." Hermione swallowed back a sob. "It was luck. I made it to the trees before I was hit. When I fell, the cloak... Sheer dumb luck." 

He didn't say anything, but she could feel the thoughtful noise he made through her back. "You will continue this foolishness? Not leave well enough alone now that you know?" 

Hermione shrugged, and inhaled sharply when the cloth passed over one breast. 

"A question for another day perhaps. But I can see that your efforts yielded little, and I believe I can shield you from the Ministry. This is your time to rest now, Hermione." He smoothed her hair, tucking wild strands away behind her ears. "Rest. I'll take care of you... better than you took care of me." 

"Thank you." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

"So close..." 

"What are you muttering about this morning? Not more nightmares." 

Hermione shook her head as she rifled through the drawers. "I'm just looking for some clean socks." 

"And you're that close to finding a pair? Are you sure you got enough sleep last night?" 

"Quite sure." She glanced back at the bed to see Severus still firmly entrenched in the blankets. "Don't you have something to do today besides throw your shiftlessness in my face?" 

Eyebrows rose. "Shiftlessness? I must not have been paying attention; I thought I had another week before--" 

"Very funny." She softened and graced him with a small smile. "I'm fine, really. But I do need some socks. I suppose I could always--" 

"Don't even think about taking mine." 

"I need--" 

"To stop and take a moment to think. Clean socks? Really, Miss Granger. That should be a simple task for a know-it-all like you." 

Hermione flushed and managed a face worthy of a charging bull. She would not let him get to her this close to Christmas. "Ha. Ha." 

Severus rose from the bed in one smooth motion, and stood behind her. "Need my assistance again?" He tsked and shook his head. "You're slipping, my dear." 

"I'm distracted," Hermione ground out, stopping herself from turning and punching him with great effort. 

"It's like this." Reaching into her robes, Severus took out Hermione's wand and pressed it into her hand. "Hold it loosely, fingers like so for maximum control." 

She almost broke, almost laughed as he arranged her fingers precisely on the smooth, worn wood. "Maximum control? What if I do this?" She made her hand into a sudden fist, turning her knuckles white with the pressure. 

He winced. "No, never handle a wand like that. You must be delicate, but sure." After rearranging her fingers once again, he put his hand over her own. "Your movements must be precise and controlled for..." Severus leaned forward so his breath was loud in her ear. "Greatest potency." 

Hermione's mouth went completely dry and her stomach knotted up into a tight ball. "Stop that!" she said, and pulled away. "I can't go to work like this." Cheeks and ears pink, she faced Severus' knowing, even rakish, grin. "Shiftless." 

"Of course, Miss Granger, I would be more than happy to assist you with your wand technique later. Shall we say six this evening?" He turned and resumed his place in the bed. "You're dismissed now." 

"Thank you, your grace." Even as she left the room, she was smiling. 

Severus sat in bed and watched her go. Close. What was she close to that she hadn't mentioned to him? Most likely not related to her work; she was never _close_ with any of that. She either had it or she didn't. This was something else, but what he couldn't be sure. He hadn't once picked up that she was concealing anything from him... Perhaps it just had something to do with upcoming Christmas holiday. 

Not likely, but for the moment, he'd let it go at that. Only a few days now, and his plans were almost complete. One more present, and he'd be set. He might even, if Hermione asked in a sufficiently slavish manner--scowling and with clenched teeth the entire time--go to the party with her. 

*******

Achingly close, and with the party preparations, Hermione found it difficult to concentrate on what she truly wanted to. It was entertaining enough planning it with Susan, decorating with the others, but she really did have something much less frivolous to do. It wasn't much of a gift for Severus, but she just knew he'd be surprised. In fact, she so desperately wanted to see his eyes pop out when he saw it, she devoted that much more effort to it. 

"Hermione? What about the main hall?" 

Her attention was dragged back to the chore at hand. "The lights and trees only. Don't want to overdo it there. Thanks, Jerome." Had it really been her idea to decorate the entire Ministry building? Sheer lunacy, as Severus had informed her. 

But this was the last chance to decorate, and then the party, which would include slightly under 500 guests filling the whole of the building. After that, a wonderful Christmas vacation awaited her. Already she had sent off the gifts for her parents, and would be owling out gifts for her other friends later that day. 

Christmas was getting more difficult, and especially now that her parents were very aware of her living arrangements. She was now "attached" and that meant she was supposed to get married, and after that the devotion to "family" which really meant she was supposed to have children. Hermione decided that she just didn't really want to deal with them, though the guilt that her decision was based partly on her parents desire for grandchildren niggled her. 

There was also the guilt that she had years to wait if she wished to. Her lifespan would no doubt exceed that of her parents, and it was quite possible that they would be... gone when she reached a point she was comfortable with the concept of children. Of course, there was always Severus, who was never comfortable with anything under the age of 21. Again, though, who was to say if they'd really be together for that long? 

She was still young, quite young for a witch. If something happened and they went their separate ways... Such morbid thoughts for Christmas. Not wanting to dwell on it longer, Hermione turned her full concentration to hanging the mounds of live garland, lights, ornaments, and other Christmas garb. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Hermione felt like she had slept a week. Her eyes were caked shut with sleep, and it was painful to open them. Her mouth was filled with cotton, and her hip ached where she had slept on her side for too long. Any real movement was too much effort, and she fell back into a troubled sleep. 

"She didn't want your help any more than I did." 

Albus looked as close to grave as he ever did. "Her injuries are serious, but not life-threatening. The damage has been done and healed, though clumsily. This might... have future ramifications." 

The cloak had done something. He should have known. "Do you know what hit her? And what's wrong now?" All his fault... 

Albus' glasses glinted in the low light, making his blue eyes unreadable. "I don't know exactly. Curses damaging enough to most likely cause extreme pain and probably slow death from internal injuries." 

Internal injuries... Future ramifications... "How?" 

"Damage that has been caused, then healed, but without precision. Too quickly, even for magical healing. One of her kidneys is operating at a much depleted efficiency, there is some disturbing scarring around her left lung, though it seems healthy enough, and..." Now the old man looked totally discomfited. He fiddled with his beard, smoothing it out. 

"What? This is my fault; I have a right to know." 

"I blame myself for this as well, Severus. I shouldn't have--" 

"Tell me, Albus. She was my responsibility." 

"Scarring around her, ah, reproductive organs." And he would say no more. 

Future ramifications. So that was it. "I see." Staring at Dumbledore accomplished nothing more. "I thank your for your help once again. I will tell her." 

"You're most welcome, Severus. Remember, you're not alone here. If you ever want anything, don't be too shy to ask." 

"Yes, yes, thank you." 

Merlin, this was awful. 

It was two more days before Hermione woke fully and pulled herself from bed. When he told her about the future ramifications from her task, she stared at Severus blank-faced. 

"I have what?" 

"Scarring. It's possible you'll never be able to have children." He was similarly blank-faced, but for different reasons. 

"Oh." Hermione shrugged. "I think I'm going back to bed." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

"Please say you'll go to the party with me." 

Severus had been ready to ask her to beg for it, but the tired tone and posture told him she was not up for it. "Yes, I'll go." Before he could make the gesture, she had wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "What's wrong?" 

"I'm just tired; I shouldn't have volunteered for the party. I didn't get any work done today, probably won't get any done tomorrow... I'm so very glad there's vacation coming up. I don't think I could go another week like this." Up and down her back, his hands moved in a calming rhythm. "Christmas is supposed to be a happy time..." 

"Only if you allow it to be. You're working yourself to exhaustion. Take time to enjoy it." 

Hermione sighed. "I wish I could. I'm really looking forward to this evening though. Once that's done..." Vacation. Like bread for a starving man. She looked up at him. "Why haven't you been to work for the past two days? Usually you're gone before I am and back later." 

"My own vacation. I'm allowed one once in a very long while." He shrugged, the tiniest of smiles tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Time for bed, isn't it? You have to be awake early." 

"Don't remind me." 

That night, Hermione got an excellent night's sleep, keeping a firm hold of Severus until her alarm roused her in the morning. Though refreshed, she knew the day would be one she'd rather skip if possible. 

The sheer number of people that would be attending the Ministry party was catching up to her. To actually have to greet that many people, she thought she'd rather French kiss a Bubotuber plant, but it was too late to go back on the event. 

"You will be there tonight, won't you?" she asked, unable to keep the trepidation from her voice. 

"Of course. It would be horribly neglectful of me to leave you in such an _enviable_ situation." 

Hermione couldn't hold back the grin. "We can be miserable together." She leaned up, her hands resting flat against his chest, and kissed him on the underside of his chin. "Yes, I knew there was some reason I had to get up early this morning." She kissed him again. 

"Work perhaps?" He intercepted her lips and held them with his own. 

"No, not work." 

Hermione was not late for work. She was never late for work. Yet she wasn't early as she had planned to be. The one thing she regretted about her early morning dalliance was that, with the party that afternoon, she would have less time for her work. And she so wanted to surprise Severus with it on Christmas. 

*******

"God, get me out of here." 

"I love it when you call me that." 

Hermione abandoned her carefully manufactured pleasant face and scowled at Severus. "Normally I would love to play your little games, but right now, I'm desperately attempting not to kill someone and continue smiling." She smiled suddenly, looking more like a victim of the Imperius curse than one of the evening's celebrated organizers. "And you're doing just lovely as my window dressing; I've seen all the Ministry spinsters eyeing you." Eyelashes fluttered dramatically. 

"I can see you're ready to leave." He took her elbow and put on his best not unpleasant face, then led her through the crowd. 

After enduring handshakes, kisses, hugs, pats on the back, and even a drunken grope from the notorious Philip (which Severus dealt with by liberally using his most humiliating hexes, and received a modest round of applause for), they exited the Ministry building and apparated home. 

After that day, Hermione kept herself secreted away in the guest room with the door securely locked and warded while she worked. Regularly she emerged for meals and sleep; there was no need for it to drive her to such complete distraction. Besides, Severus would comment on her behavior if it was too odd, and then she'd have to tell him instead of keeping it a surprise for him. It was so hard to surprise him with anything, this would be just perfect if she could work out the last niggling details in the remaining days before Christmas. 

Crookshanks sat outside the door, faithful to her for once, monitoring her. "Silly old cat," she'd say each time she entered the room, and then she'd shut the door. Never once did he attempt to join her; he was content with the worn rug colored a faded blue and purple to wait upon. 

It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve when Crookshanks' ears perked up. In fact, all the fur along his back rose as he got slowly to his feet. His eyes, mostly black with his extremely dilated pupils, locked on the door as he slowly retreated from it. He stayed that way for a few more seconds, and then sound of Hermione's voice came from that room. 

"Got it!" 

*******

Christmas morning. Severus was awake and she knew it, even if he pretended to be sleeping. "Good morning and happy Christmas, Mr. Grinch." 

"You'd like it if I were covered with green fur, wouldn't you?" He opened one eye that shone with rare amusement and watched her. 

Shivering almost violently for show, Hermione's eyes rolled up. "I'd _love_ it." Immediately she snapped back to her normal self. "Now get up so we can open presents." She threw back the blankets and hopped out of bed. 

Both Severus and Crookshanks made noises of protest, and huddled in the rapidly diminishing warmth. 

"Come on. Don't be lazy. I'll have some mint tea made, maybe even some chocolate chip pancakes if you move fast enough. Then... the unwrapping." It was the closest thing to a holy day Hermione had, and it had nothing to do with the Christ child. She pulled on her warmest robe, huge fuzzy bearclaw slippers, pulled her hair back and up, and hurried out of the room. 

"Why didn't you tell me she was like this? Still... chocolate chip pancakes..." Severus emerged from the bed to begin his own morning ritual. 

Crookshanks stayed buried under the blankets. 

Downstairs, Hermione got the water for tea going and was making batter for the pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes would get Severus to cross a room past a werewolf, the big softie. A catchy tune, an old Muggle one her parents had listened to in her extreme youth, popped unexpectedly into her head, and she found herself humming it as she worked. 

She paused her humming as the kettle whistled, and when she removed it from the heat, she heard his whispering steps approach the kitchen. "They'll be done in a couple minutes. Tea's ready now," she said loudly, and returned to her humming. 

They went through the familiar motions of tea and breakfast together. Hermione was more than a little anxious though, and inhaled her food, not tasting it at all. "Eat faster, Severus. I'm ready to open presents." 

"In due time. These really are quite good. Beyond your normally adequate cooking I'd say. Amazing." 

Not rising to his bait, Hermione just tapped her foot as she watched him eat. Slowly. Carefully. Annoyingly. "Hurry, or I'll start without you." 

"Show some patience. Perhaps if you made these more often, I wouldn't have to spend so much time relishing them. You must understand the simple concept of supply and demand." His eyes were closed and there was an uncommon look of serenity on his face. 

Hermione sighed, and for that look, she would wait. Peace, even as simple as this, was something he had a terrible lack of, and even she could not provide it for him with consistency. Elbow resting on the table, she put her head in her hand, and sipped her tea as he ate. "If I had known," she began quietly, "you liked them this much, I would have made them more often." 

Smiling now, Severus opened his eyes and looked at her. "I know." He set down his fork and pushed back his chair. 

Hermione's cup clattered to the table, and she was off like a shot to the main room and the modest tree set up there--which had been at her insistence. Severus was remarkably unspirited when it came to Christmas. 

She smiled when she saw the boxes under the tree, wrapped in delicate green and silver paper with lovely black silk bows and small silver bells for accent. He wasn't much for Christmas, but when he put his mind to it, he could be downright Santa-like. The image of him in a Santa suit, grinding out a snarling "ho ho ho" made her laugh aloud as she kneeled in front of the tree. 

Though the gifts were few--his, her own decorated in cheery red and green paper, a small assortment from her various friends and parents, some from his ex-colleagues at Hogwarts--it felt much more true. Rather than a tree heaped with presents, meaningless trinkets from each and every person she had ever made eye contact with, these were gifts from the heart of each of these people. This was what made Christmas for Hermione. 

"I'm starting without you!" she yelled and picked up the first gift (Harry's) from under the tree. 

"Impatient woman. Allow an old man some time with his tea," Severus grumbled as he ambled--actually ambled, Hermione couldn't believe it--into the room, his tea still steaming. 

For being an old man as he claimed, he slid easily into his chair. No doubt he'd start complaining about his arthritis any day now, and request a massage from her. "This one's for you," she said, picking up a small box wrapped in the most hideous multi-colored paper she had ever seen. "Must be from Dumbledore." 

For the next quarter hour, they unwrapped the gifts that had come from others. It was only when they were down to the presents from one another that they paused. "Mine first," Hermione said, and stood. She held a slight box in her hands, the only thing special about it being the gold ribbon on it that had small, silver lions marching down its length. "And no guessing what it is before you open it," she warned him, kneeling in front of him now as he took the box and held it. 

"Now who's being the Grinch, denying me the opportunity to crush your Christmas hopes that you'd surprise me." Severus grinned, then winced as Hermione pinched the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. "Fine, then. If you're going to resort to dirty pool, I won't say a word." 

"That'd be a first." Her eyes alight, Hermione watched him eagerly unwrap the box, setting the ribbon aside with her approval, and opened it. "I love silk," she blurted out when he moved aside the tissue paper. 

Eyes half-lidded, he looked down at her. "Against your bare skin, yes?" 

Hermione just smiled. 

"I will endeavor to wear them often then. Very often." He set aside the box filled with fluid black silk, wearing a small smile, and waited for Hermione to fetch the next gift. 

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione. I must object," he said as he held the wrapped object. 

"Why?" She blinked innocently. 

"Because I know exactly what this is. The first one was bad enough, and now this?" 

It was too hard to maintain her innocent expression, and Hermione broke into a fit of giggles. "Just open it. It might have something useful in it." 

The paper, bow and ribbon he tore into mercilessly to reveal... _Leaste Potente Potions 2: Less Potente Than the Firste_. "Wonderful," Severus deadpanned. "I shall treasure it always." He tossed it aside. "At least I know the next one will be good; it certainly couldn't be worse than that." 

Hermione held the box out, wearing an especially proud look on her face though it was only the size of her fist. 

Curious at what it could be--because he knew the possibilities and discounted most of them--to make her glow in such a manner, Severus unwrapped the small package and opened the box within. He drew out, between his forefinger and thumb, a miniature cauldron. An arched eyebrow was his query. 

"I didn't want you to figure it out," Hermione said, a little breathless, and pulled out her wand. "Hold it in your lap; it's a bit heavy." She tapped the tiny rim, and the cauldron resumed its normal size, shining brightly. 

"Silver?" Severus asked, admiring the simple beauty. Nothing fancy here, just a well-crafted silver caul-- 

"Platinum." 

He almost sent it tumbling to the floor in his surprise. Now both eyebrows shot up. "Platinum, you say," he said faintly. 

"Platinum." 

"Oh, well... It's very nice. I'm sure it will come in useful." 

And with that unappreciative statement, Hermione knew he was extraordinarily pleased with her gift. She beamed and stood in front of him. "There's one more. It's not as nice as that, but..." She took a deep breath. "Here goes." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

"I never stop being amazed at it." Hermione shook her head, a look of appreciation plain on her face. "I know that takes a lot of work, but when did you do it?" 

The black snake on the floor hissed at her, then slowly wound its way around her ankle. 

"Hey, what are you doing? If you bite me I'll step on you." God that felt weird, and not in a bad way. 

The snake was lifting itself up, hugging her leg. No, it was _climbing_ up her leg, under her robes. Slowly, inch by inch, the tail end was disappearing as the head ascended her person. 

"S-Severus, what are you doing?" she asked, holding on to the back of a chair to keep herself from collapsing under the strange, new sensation. The squeezing, kneading of her leg as he worked his way up; the touch of his tongue, lighter than a feather; that cool, satiny touch gripping her thigh... He was everywhere on her, slipping beneath the elastic of her panties and emerging to slide across her belly. 

"Oh... oh my..." Her legs buckled slowly so she sank gradually to the floor, her leg stretched out before her with the snake still wrapped around it. Now he was wrapped around other things as well, moving in the most fascinating ways against very sensitive skin so that Hermione could barely breathe. "Severus, you... you have to..." Stop. That was what she meant to say; that wasn't what she said. "Wait so I don't hurt you because I think I'm about to do something very very bad." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Yes! That was the look she was waiting for! He had almost fallen out of his chair at her revelation, and she was almost tempted to help him in that regard. But no, she sat and looked at him, waiting to see just what he would do when he recovered his wits. 

His eyes were still comically wide, but he managed to speak. "Hermione?" 

She nodded. 

"You're..." Abruptly Severus recovered himself, the surprise falling away to leave him looking proud and vaguely amused. "Yes, big and showy, just as I thought." 

Growling, Hermione reared up, put her paws on his shoulders and shoved him backwards easily, tipping the chair over as if it were just a glass bumped by her hand. Moving right away, she crouched low over him, yellow eyes narrowed, and continued to growl. 

"I can't help if it's the truth, Hermione," Severus said, pinned to the floor by one paw in the middle of his chest. "You certainly can't manage any sort of espionage like that unless you're in a zoo." 

Slowly Hermione moved her paw, and the room was filled with the sound of ripping cloth. When she back away, his robe was in tatters with four long tears down the front. 

"I never said it was a bad thing. In fact, you are quite beautiful. I've never seen anything like it before." 

Hermione paced the room twice before she glared at Severus, her tail swishing back and forth quickly, ears laid flat. If he had any wisdom, he'd start groveling. 

"Hermione, please. I meant nothing negative," he said, sitting up. "I always knew you could do anything you wanted to if you applied yourself. Here you've proven it, and you're nothing so base as _dog_. Stop taking what I said the wrong way." He gave her a lopsided grin. "My queen." 

She was upon him once again, her paws upon his shoulders, pinning him to the floor, her face less than an inch from his. 

"Your whiskers are tickling me." 

Hermione started to laugh, and that dissolved her concentration so that she changed back to her entirely human form. "Now you know how I feel when you don't shave." Between them, she looked at his torn clothing. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

"On the contrary. You've made me... surprisingly happy. I'm not sure why. Animagi come in many forms, some mundane, some relatively magical, but I don't think I've ever seen one as exotic as you." 

A blush colored her cheeks, and she had to look away. "I owe it to you," she murmured. "Before I came here, I probably would have changed into a smarter-than-average head of lettuce." 

His hand came up and stroked her cheek, moving hair from her eyes. "But now you're a tiger." He leaned up and kissed her slowly. 

"A tiger..." Ideas of all the things she could do started to spin through her head. She had done it! An animagus finally! 

"But now," Severus' voice interrupted her glee, "you have some presents to open." 

"Oh! I do!" The whole incident was forgotten with the promise of more presents, and Hermione was sitting under the tree, ripping open the wrapped of her first gift. "Ohh, who helped pick this out," she asked teasingly when she pulled out the matching bra and panties. 

Severus flushed. "Well, you see..." 

But Hermione was already opening the next. This time, she held the garment up and looked straight through it at Severus. "Excuse me?" 

This time, he just coughed. "If I have to explain it to you, I may need to check your tea for Polyjuice." 

"Don't worry. I'll put it to good use and for longer than an hour." She looked back at the tree and was a little disheartened to see there were no more presents. "This is always my least favorite part of Christmas: waiting for the afterglow to finally wear off." 

"Come here, Miss Granger." 

Not bothering to question him, she took his proffered hand and rose to her feet. Settling in his lap, her legs over the arm and feet swinging slightly, she leaned her head on his shoulder. 

"Tell me, little girl, what you would like for Christmas?" he whispered, putting his arm around her back and releasing her hand. 

"You're a little late. It's already Christmas and I got everything I wanted." Hermione closed her eyes and sighed delicately. Yes, the giddy feelings were fading steadily now. 

"I seem to have one more though. Perhaps it's not for you then." 

One eye opened and studied him. He was not looking at her, his eyes down and focused on his free right hand. She took a moment to look at his hand as well, and went very, very still. 

"I had assumed," he said with a trace of confusion, "that it was for you. But if you're not interested in seeing what it is, I will, of course, understand." Severus turned the small, ivory-colored box, his fingertips toying with the lip of it, almost opening it. 

Instead of speaking, Hermione, both eyes open now, plucked the box from his hand. "For me?" 

"Of course." 

He was watching her now, his gaze as tangible as the box she was holding. With a slightly shaking hand, she opened it slowly, afraid to see what it was holding. Afraid, but unable to not look, to hope and anticipate. 

"We said something, tentative, before," he said, as he removed the ring from its hold in the box, "but I am a man who prefers solid obligations. So once I place this on your finger, you realize that I will _have_ to marry you, do you not?" 

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide and fixed on the ring. So simple with one small, shining diamond on it... 

"Not platinum, I'm afraid. I'm rather partial to white gold." The ring slipped easily on her finger, which had relinquished the box to stay steady for his task. "Silver is more appropriate than that horribly gaudy gold, but too mechanical, service-oriented for you. White gold retains that elegance, and though it is less pure than the standard adornment of the metal--" 

She kissed him. 

**TBC**


	10. The Coachwhip's Grieving

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Grieving

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Hermione muttered something, then turned her face back into the pillow as Severus extracted himself from their tangle of limbs and blankets. He tucked her back in, brushing the hair away from her face tenderly, then shrugged on his robe. "Take care of her, old man," he instructed Crookshanks, lounging on the chair next to the dresser, before he left the room. 

His feet led him very confidently down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his hands began the ritual of morning tea. Morning tea, he could not function without it. It was the lightning bolt for his Frankenstein's monster. He wasn't alive without it. Hermione didn't understand this, and teased him for it, but woe befall her if he ever had to skip his tea. There was certainly no teasing then. 

Only when the first steaming sip was on his lips, in his mouth, and on the way down did his brain finally tune in to the world around him. It was a wondrous moment, just sitting in the quiet kitchen with a cup of hot tea, all to himself. No regrets for having left Hogwarts then, down in the dungeons, putting up with all the noise, the chattering of the other teachers, clamor of the students... 

Hogwarts had never been his home, not like this was. Especially not now. 

"Zaichik?" 

The teacup flew out of Severus' hand and shattered on the floor. "Merlin's _beard_, you scared the hell out of me!" he snapped. 

"Is that any way to talk to your babushka?" 

"If she nearly gives me a heart attack, I think it's perfectly acceptable." Severus rose smoothly from the chair and crossed the room. He embraced the woman in the doorway. "What brings you here?" 

The woman stepped back and put her hands on her hips. "Severus Snape, it is the holidays, and you ask a question like that? Shame on you. You've been alone too long; you need the company." 

He tried to stop the guilt from showing in his eyes, and was either successful, or the woman had the good grace not to acknowledge it. "Would you like some tea?" 

"Of course. We have over a year to catch up on since you never write me." 

"You don't write me either." 

"What man wants his doddering old grandmother sending him letters? People will think I'm your mistress." 

Severus couldn't help but laugh at that as he retrieved another cup. "I very much doubt that. No one is interested in my personal affairs, and you know how difficult it is to locate this place. There is no one privy to any personal information I do not wish to give them." With a pair of cups, the tea, and the pot hovering next to him, he suggested, "Why don't we sit in the other room?" 

"At least you remember how to be polite." 

"I've never forgotten. I simply choose not to be most of the time. Babushka, you know what other people think of me. Why should I--" 

"Because you're better than they are, zaichik. Never let another man's pettiness become your own. It was bad enough with those rotten little boys in school, I won't have you acting that way now." 

He rolled his eyes. "That was almost 35 years ago." 

The woman stopped, turned and glared at him. "Do not roll your eyes at me, young man. If I remember correctly, you were the one that was almost heartbroken when you were teaching when that other boy returned." 

"And that was over ten years ago, and I would hardly consider Remus Lupin a boy." Standing straight, looking as dignified as possible in his dressing gown, Severus said, "Besides, I was not heartbroken. I was distressed by the danger he presented to the students and the school." 

His grandmother snorted. "You can make up all the stories you want to fool other people, zaichik, but you can't fool me." She waited, taking in the hurt look on his face, then said gently, "You know you can talk to me about anything, whenever you need to. Those boys don't ever need to haunt you again." 

"I... I know." 

The tea waited silently for the scene to pass, which it did, and the two took their leave to the sitting room. The tea allowed the damaged feelings to smooth over before they began talking once more. 

"I would have been here earlier, Severus, but I was detained. I didn't want you to spend Christmas alone." 

Not drinking his tea, just staring into it, Severus mentally composed his answer. "I didn't spend it alone, Babushka." 

"No? Did you go to the school? I remember how much you held Albus Dumbledore in esteem." 

"I spent it here." 

"Then why don't you tell me straight out what you're desperately trying to avoid, zaichik?" Her eyes narrowed. 

Avoiding that gaze, Severus smiled slightly as he looked at his bare feet. "I... I'm engaged." 

"To be _married_?" 

"Of course. In what other manner would I be engaged?" he snapped irritably at the complete disbelief in her voice. 

She was on her feet and pulling him to his own instantly. As she took him into a fierce hug, she whispered with equal intensity in his ear, "Oh God, zaichik, I'm so happy for you." Releasing him, she held him at arm's length. "Where is she? How long have you been shacking up with her? She's not pregnant, is she?" 

"Upstairs, sleeping. Please don't call it 'shacking up'; it's a long story. And of course not. Your nerve continually astounds me." 

"Well if the story is that long, then you had best start talking. I want all the details." 

It was an hour later, as Severus was finally wrapping everything up with the giving of the ring ("White gold? Good taste must run in the family.") and the "plans" they had made. Not that they had really made any, but simply ending the entire tale with "And then we shagged like we were trying to outdo a field of horklumps" just didn't seem appropriate to tell his grandmother. 

"Of course. It wouldn't be easy or standard with you. You like to torture this old woman, seeing how long I'll live before you finally settle down... Not forever, young man." 

Severus rolled his eyes. "At least you're marginally more sane than Hermione's parents." 

"Not every day does one see a small black snake turn into a full-grown man, Severus. You must remember to be more lenient with Muggles. Do you need lessons? I've made it a hobby." She smiled sweetly at his scowl. 

"Her parents will manage. They accept Hermione for what she is, and beyond that it doesn't matter." 

"What about my parents?" 

Both the room's occupants stood and faced her. "They'll accept us and the life you choose to lead eventually," Severus said solemnly, looking absurd with his grave features in his dressing gown. 

Hermione was too tired to stop herself and giggled. "I'm sorry," she said, and stifled a yawn. Briefly her eyes settled on the woman, and she could see in some of her features and the way she held herself this was a relative of his. "I'll just... freshen up?" 

Severus nodded, his eyes glowing with warmth. This was obviously important to him. The woman nodded as well, eager and not afraid to show it. 

"We'll just wait for you, dear." 

That was enough to set Hermione on edge, as this woman was not only one of Severus' relatives, but one important enough to him to know about their engagement and visit him in his home without invitation. This was just as important as him meeting her parents, hopefully with less yelling. "I'll be right down," she said, bowing her head in a strangely formal fashion that came purely as instinct, and backed away. 

She returned barely twenty minutes later, dispensing with much of the "prettifying" for this informal company. After already caught in her morning attire, it wouldn't matter to tart herself up now. Probably best not to tart herself up for any of Severus' relatives anyway. In fact, best not to tart herself up at all. Unless he asked her to, then it would be OK. 

Fresh tea was waiting for her as she entered the sitting room. Again, they booth stood, which was strange, as Severus never did that when she came into a room or went to sit. Whether his actions now were some show for this woman, or because of simple respect, Hermione didn't know. The look on the woman's face though, Hermione thought she would find out exactly what prompted Severus' behavior. 

With confidence in her step, Hermione strode forward. "I'm Hermione Granger." 

Before the woman could speak, Severus said, solemnly once more, "This is my grandmother, Sonia Snape." 

Hermione smiled tentatively, belying her nervousness, and put out her hand. "Hello." 

"Now, zaichik, you left out all the interesting names." Her hand took Hermione's and gave it a firm pump as she smiled at the younger woman. "That's Sonia Haft Greene Lovecraft Davis Snape." 

"That's not something to be proud of," Severus said, a bit darkly if Hermione was hearing him correctly. 

"I certainly can't help that Muggle men are so short-lived or so unaccepting of the existence of magic. I would have stayed with your grandfather if he hadn't been so frightened of what I was... and his overbearing aunts." Her eyes, soft and affectionate at first, hardened to something Hermione was familiar with in Severus' eyes. 

With a shake of his head, Severus turned away. "I'm sure I have more important things to do than listen to the family secrets be spread around. Please feel free to find me when you're finished." He walked away and was stopped in the doorway by his grandmother's voice. 

"Richarda..." 

His head and shoulders drooped. "These things make me uncomfortable. Dedushka and Ottsa will undoubtedly come up, and... I just can't bear to hear it again. You know what happened." 

"I know. Things not even your grandfather could have dreamt. You go on, zaichik. We'll have lunch later," Sonia said very gently. The affection was shining very obviously in her eyes as she watched him go. "Now, where were we?" she said suddenly and turned her attention on Hermione. 

"Er... maybe it's not--" 

"Nonsense. If you're curious to hear the truth, I'm not unwilling to tell it." The old woman smiled, looking, if anything, like a strange cross between Minerva McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley. "Severus--you know of his past associations, correct?" 

Hermione settled into the nearest chair, preparing for a bit of an extended chat. "The Death Eaters, you mean? Yes... and they're not exactly past." 

The comment seemed to fly directly over Sonia's head. "That will make this much easier to explain then. Yes, my married name is Snape, and Severus' name is Snape, but only because my last husband adopted Severus' father." She smiled, and her face grew almost half a century younger with it. "Plutus Snape, a good man, but horribly prideful. His pride was what led him to his death, and that of my son." 

"Oh! I really shouldn't be asking about it," Hermione said, seeing the weariness that was warring with the smile on the woman's face. "It's really not my business." Some tea would have been a godsend right then, anything to divert her attention a single mote. 

Sonia smiled again, less brightly, but still affectionately. "Oh, I think you're entitled to know all the fringe benefits you get with the Snape family, my dear. Now sit back; I'm going to try this without skipping around--more difficult than you might think at my age. 

"I was born in 1893, in Russia. I moved to the United States and married my first husband there. Yes, he was a Muggle, and no, he didn't know I was a witch." She grinned, showing her even, white teeth. "I did so have a fondness for them; it's really my one weakness. But he died, and being the indomitable witch I am, I took my daughter and settled in the New York area. This was about 1920 or so... dates are a bit fuzzy, you understand." 

Hermione nodded. 

"I tried my hand in various Muggle pursuits, which was unnecessarily difficult as they were hesitant to accept a woman as anything other than a wife or mother. One of them proved to be... fruitful. Though I was no author of fiction myself, I was an avid reader, and I wrote critical articles, even started my own which gained the attention of some people. One of those turned out to be my second husband, Severus' grandfather. He was a brilliant man, but if there was ever a person born under a Grim, it was he. Howard and I were happy. I know we were. For the first time in years, he was healthy even though he lived in a city he hated, but after two years of comfortable living, things went horribly wrong. 

"Howard wasn't very accepting of anything outside himself, if you understand what I mean." She gave Hermione a pointed look. 

"He... found out you were a witch?" 

"And that I was pregnant, and our financial state was in tatters, and his aunts pleaded with him to return to his home in Rhode Island..." A simple shrug. "We stayed married, as I don't think Howard could actually make himself believe the things he had learned. I forced the divorce a few years later. My daughter, fully grown and without magical powers--squib is such an ugly word, had moved on by this time, and it was left for Maxim and I to fend for ourselves. Maxim was Severus' father. I knew he would be a powerful wizard from a very young age. 

"Powerful I could feel, and brilliant like his father, and in the end, doomed like his father too. But there I go again, getting events out of order. 

"I married another Muggle, a very nice man, but I kept my secret this time carefully. Maxim was young enough that his education didn't need to begin right away. I was plagued with short marriages until I met Plutus... the advantage to marrying a wizard. After my husband died, I met Plutus, who cared nothing for bloodlines or purity, and accepted Maxim immediately. Our marriage lasted until his death at the age of 105 in 1970. Severus' first year at Hogwarts. 

"But it's between the time I went to England with Plutus and his death that the whole of the wizarding world was turned upside down, and it seemed to take a root right in the middle of my family." 

Hogwarts: A History didn't have anything on this. Hearing it straight from a survivor, a witness to Voldemort's rising... It was something most people would never speak of for whatever reason, though Hermione could only see the benefit in learning from the past. She found herself sitting a bit farther forward in her chair. 

"Maxim grew up in England. There's nothing much to tell there. Plutus... he had money and power and influence. He was prideful and could be snobbish when he wanted. Naturally he was targeted by Voldemort. And Plutus Snape would never call anyone his master." A proud, defiant smile lit her face. "Especially a boy wizard with dreams of grandeur. He was no Ministry fan, but Voldemort was worse to him, to be someone's slave, follow unquestioningly... He would never do that." She shook her head, chuckling softly to herself. "Out of order again." 

Hermione was starting to get a vague idea where this was going, but she didn't dare interrupt. She just nodded. 

"Maxim went to school, to Hogwarts, without incident. He graduated, thank Merlin, before a young man named Tom Riddle started. It gives me nightmares to think he could have been a victim of that beast and his little chamber..." 

"Because he's a half-blood," Hermione said before she could catch herself. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, or it even matters. My parents are both non-magical, so I don't really--" 

"Nonsense, dear. I know what you meant, and you're right. But Maxim's legal father was Plutus Snape, and no one in their right mind ever questioned Plutus Snape. Maxim had his entire future open for him with Plutus' influence at his back, and..." Sonia sighed then, and she showed her age at that moment with every line around her mouth and eyes. "He met a woman after he graduated. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but this one... she was weak-willed, and neither Plutus nor I approved of her. I know that sounds horrid of us, but we could see what Maxim couldn't." She leaned forward just as Hermione was. "This girl was damaged. She wasn't right, but she used every charm at her disposal to claim Maxim's heart." 

"Severus' mother?" 

"Gavenia Snape. We were not exactly pleased to have her take the name, but we would not be so petty as to deny the two of them and lose Maxim to her completely. Maxim was not easily wooed, we knew, and that his attraction to her went deeper than her looks and physical charms. Gavenia was smart, you see, clever. That was why Maxim was so taken with her, and why we could not easily dismiss her." 

"She... was a follower of Voldemort? So soon after he--" 

"Voldemort had his followers even in school. He was charming, a good student, and smart enough to cover his tracks. Oh, to sing the praises of an evil man..." Tears welled up in her eyes suddenly, and she looked away. "Maxim married Gavenia, and in 1958, she gave birth to what was to be her offering to Voldemort. Poor Maxim was too distracted to see what was happening, or he desperately didn't want to see. I must be boring you with all this." She looked at Hermione, and Hermione was stunned by the horribly stricken look on the woman's face. 

"No, not at all." It came out as a whisper. 

"It's so easy for him to reach us through our families. I would not let her give a baby, any baby, to Voldemort, let alone my grandson. Plutus was killed the year Severus went to school, and then Maxim followed. Enraged at the death of his father, the betrayal of his wife, the intended sacrifice of his son, he held nothing back. In the end, I was the only family he had left; his father and grandfather killed by Voldemort, and his mother killed by his father because of her allegiance to Voldemort. You can see why he didn't want to stay and listen, all the misery that monster has put him through..." 

So, Plutus Snape refused to throw his hand in with Voldemort, even though he... "Did you know," Hermione asked suddenly, "Gavenia was one of Voldemort's supporters before she..." 

"No, not until after. I didn't even find out about her plans for Severus until much later; I never heard it from her own lying lips. I was so angry, and when Alastor--" 

"Moody?" 

"Yes, him. I met him after he had found some information out from some apprehended Death Eaters, and he told me about the practice of offering children to Voldemort for... whatever they might be needed for." 

So, Plutus Snape refused Voldemort, his son then became involved with one of Voldemort's supporters unknowingly. The exact chronology was a bit muddled, but the big picture was fairly clear. Severus was born and was to be... offered to Voldemort--when he was older? For what? His first year of school--assuming the harassment of Plutus and Sonia Snape continued in the time between--his grandfather was murdered, his father, in a rage and apparently learning of his wife's loyalties, killed her and... confronted Vodlemort? Death Eaters? Whatever he did, he was murdered in turn. "So, if most of Severus' family was murdered with involvement by Voldemort, why did he become a Death Eater?" 

Sonia sat back in the chair, looking very much her age and drained. She still managed to smile at Hermione. "That, my dear, is something you should ask Severus. He's told me, but I think it will help him more if he tells you directly." 

Hermione's mind was working rapidly on the subject already. Revenge? Coerced? Blackmailed? Followed more in his mother's footsteps than his father's? A simple deathwish maybe... That was not too far from believable. 

"It's best just to ask him; you'll hurt yourself trying to puzzle out his motivations," Sonia said gently, and smiled, the weariness in her face being removed smoothly and quickly. 

Hermione flushed. "Of course. I should know better by now." 

With a laugh, Sonia sat up. "I'm afraid you have genetics to blame on that. His father and grandfather were both like that; I don't think he'll ever change that aspect of himself. Though I can see you've managed to curb his more self-destructive habits. I have to thank you for that." 

Still blushing, Hermione shook her head. "I didn't do anything." She fiddled with a loose button on her robes. "He wouldn't let me--" 

"Oh no, he wouldn't let anyone, of that you're right. He'd change _for_ you though." There was a pause, in which Sonia watched Hermione do anything other than look her in the eyes. "That's a nice ring you have," she continued softly, and shook her head when the younger woman tucked her hand from view. "Don't hide it; it's lovely. May I see?" 

With a strained, self-conscious laugh, Hermione held out her hand. The metal shined lustily in the sunlight streaming through the window. When Sonia took her hand, it was like warm, supple parchment on her skin. She could very acutely imagine Severus' hands feeling like this when he grew older. "Can I ask... how old are you?" 

"Once you reach my age," Sonia said, gazing at the ring, "it's not a crime. I'm past caring. In fact," she looked at Hermione with a pleased sparkle in her eye, "you could even ask me how much I weigh." 

That snapped the lingering tension, and they both laughed. 

"I'll be 126 this year. I feel every second of it too. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And if you would return the courtesy?" 

"Oh, yes, I'm 29. And if I'm feeling it now, I don't know if I want to see 100." Morbid, perhaps, but with everything she'd been through, there were days she felt like she was three times that age. 

Apparently done inspecting the ring, Sonia patted Hermione's hand and released it. "You'll help each other along. Don't you worry." There was a sudden shift in gears that left Hermione reeling. "Now, as for your wedding, how many people will be there?" 

"Uh..." 

"I know many young witches now prefer a small, intimate wedding--" 

Hermione nodded, grateful for that concession. 

"--but really, a hundred people is much too small to properly wed. What?" 

With frightening speed, Hermione's face was turning a bright red and her mouth was hanging open. "One _hundred_?" 

"Naturally. I prefer the larger affairs myself. I attended one of a friend in 1976 that had over a thousand guests. Oh, those sinful 70's..." 

Hermione sputtered. 

"I realize one thousand is a bit unrealistic now, but you can see how even a three hundred would be so much better than just a hundred guests. I'm all for intimate, but that's not doing justice to the occasion." She seemed utterly oblivious to the strange contortions Hermione's face was going through. 

"NO!" 

"As I said, one thousa--" 

"Not a thousand, not a hundred, not even twenty! My life is not a public spectacle!" Hermione barked, and immediately felt shame at the way she was treating this woman. "I just..." She looked away, frowning. 

"Just as well, most likely. Severus would never stand for more attendees than necessary anyway." Sonia looked thoughtfully at the girl. _Lord, she's not a girl... you're just old._

"I don't really know that many people to be inviting to a wedding anyway," Hermione continued quietly, and now she was looking at her hands. Fingers clutched at one another. "I haven't kept in touch with most of the people I knew in school, and I have only a couple people at the Ministry I would invite. My parents, of course, you, Dumbledore... That's not very many." 

"It's enough, dear. Now I know that story Severus gave me was a load of griffin dung; I'm very sure you two didn't make any plans." She looked at Hermione down her nose. "Did you?" 

This woman could be worse than her mother, and Hermione was forced to look away. "No..." 

"Then it's something that needs to be done. Unless Severus has miraculously become a new person, which I doubt, then he won't want any part in these preparations. You're going to take responsibility for everything?" 

Unspoken: if Severus hates it, it'll be all your fault. Hermione nodded. "The fact is, neither of us want anything that requires preparations. I would be embarrassed and he would be... displeased," she said, braving the older woman's gaze briefly. "This is not something I'm willing to negotiate or even discuss." 

Sonia pursed her lips, looking thoroughly disapproving. 

"We got into a fight over a joke before, about children, so I'm not willing to even broach this topic with him. He'll say no, and then he'll get annoyed thinking that I want it." Hermione was ready to go on, but the drawn look Sonia was giving her was unnerving. "What?" 

"You're not...? No children?" she whispered. 

Something in Hermione clenched at this reaction. Bad, very bad. She couldn't bring herself to speak, only shake her head. 

"Whyever not? You're young, not even 30. There's no reason not to!" 

The tightness in Hermione's chest snapped at those words and was replaced by a warm rush of anger. "There is most certainly a reason not to! It is both my own and Severus' wish not to have children. There is _no_ better reason." 

A look of horror slowly dawned on the woman's face at the realization Hermione was perfectly serious about it. 

Almost violently that clenching returned, and Hermione felt the urgent need to somehow justify her reasoning. She had nothing though, that this woman would accept, to do so. Except... Stupid, illogical pity card. "I... I had an accident," she began hesitantly, her brow furrowing. This was something she had never told anyone about, not even her parents. "I was... attacked, and there was..." The words still reverberated in her head. "Scarring. Internally. On my--" 

She was engulfed in a hug, and as if the news were fresh yesterday to her, silent tears started. So stupid. She didn't want children, not really. However, it had been her choice, and Severus'. To know it had been made for her by some despicable, cowardly ass... The confession poured forth. "I never had a choice," she whispered, and clutched at the older woman's robes. 

Through a tide of soothing noises, Sonia assured her, "It's all right, dear. Don't mind a stubborn old woman. Whatever your decision is fine with me, and this isn't your fault. Forgive me for being an insensitive hag." 

"I'm sorry, so sorry..." 

"No, don't apologize. Never apologize for being who you are or living your life the way you want to." 

Hermione laughed through her tears and felt distinctly unhinged from reality. "My parents will react the same way; I should get used to it. They're not happy with anything I've done so far." 

"So far?" She leaned back and looked at Hermione very seriously, the most serious since she had arrived. "You are an adult now. You've made a life for yourself. A good life. If they're not happy now, they'll never be. You hear me?" 

A faint nod. 

"Good, because I know my life thread is dwindling, and I don't want to see my new granddaughter, married to the man who has been in essence my son for almost 40 years and has been my life..." She smiled, half warmth and half faint amusement. "I don't want to see anymore of this," she said, and wiped away the tears from one of Hermione's cheeks. "I know you're smart enough to understand simple math. You've heard if a equals b and b equals c, then a equals c?" 

Hermione nodded again, firmer this time. 

"When Severus hurts, I hurt. When you hurt, Severus hurts. And so when you hurt, I hurt. But don't think," Sonia added quickly, "that only how you affect Severus motivates my feelings." She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "I'm too old for this runaround. Take care of him, and if you ever need anything you can ask me for it, even if it's just to talk... assuming we can actually speak on the same level." A quick wink. "A century isn't so hard to overcome is it? A tiny gap in cultures." 

That raised a curl at the corners of Hermione's mouth. "No, not hard." 

"Good. Now, why don't we get Severus? He's probably tired himself out being bored. I think this is enough angst in one day for anyone." 

They both stood, but before they had reached the doorway, Sonia took Hermione by the elbow. "There is one thing I have to teach you, and when you decide to use it, I know Severus will appreciate it. He'll also know exactly where you got it." The grin she let loose was infectious. 

"What is it?" Hermione asked eagerly. 

*******

"Kladka. It's tradition." 

"The woman is already horrified; if I try and give them money, she'll think I'm preparing her daughter for a life of prostitution!" Protested he had, but when his grandmother had started to drag out the old traditions, Severus couldn't allow Hermione to be helpless against that tide. 

"It's only a few galleons, Severus. They'll understand." 

"I'm not so sure. And if you think we'll be spending that night in a cattle shed, you are mistaken." 

That brought a laugh from Sonia and a confused look from Hermione. "Nonsense. I'm no farmer, and I have no fear for..." She cleared her throat suddenly. "It's just some small things, nothing to invade on your privacy or make a spectacle of yourselves. Not even the ritual bath." 

Severus made a sour face. "Thank you." 

"If you think it would help, I would be willing to present it to them, along with an explanation." She smiled warmly at Hermione. "And braid your hair, if you would allow it." 

Not having a clue as to the meaning of it all, Hermione nodded. "Sure." 

"And you'll wear the robes, Severus," Sonia said, still smiling at Hermione. 

"I will certainly not! Those things are an abomination!" 

Right away, Sonia started laughing, and at the look on Severus' face, Hermione did too. She didn't know what exactly the robes were, but his reaction was enough. If the mere mention of them was enough to make his face turn that color, actually wearing them would probably kill him, and she couldn't abide by that. 

"Stop laughing!" he barked, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on the table. "Stop!" 

Hermione could read the warning signs and curbed her laughter immediately. Her hands settled over his fists and squeezed gently. "Don't get upset; it was a joke. Relax." 

Pulling his hands away, Severus stood and glared at the two women. "I will not be humiliated! I will not be laughed at!" He turned with such violence, his chair toppled over, and he fled the room. Normally silent, to hear his footsteps on the staircase was just... It couldn't be happening. 

Standing as well, Hermione looked at Sonia. "I'm thinking the middle of January. The sooner this is done with, the better." Then she was off as well, hurrying to follow his retreat. 

Sonia just shook her head. He had changed, but not quite that much yet. Not a good way to start wedding planning. 

Upstairs, Hermione shut the bedroom door and put locking and silencing charms on it. Some things needed to be kept private, no matter how close the family was. "It was a joke," she said quietly, standing with her back against the door. "Do you hear me?" 

He didn't answer, but at least he hadn't transfigured into a snake again. No, he was still quite human and on the bed with his back to her. 

Hermione smiled briefly. She knew what to do in this situation, just as he had done before. 

Silence in the room until the bed springs protested with her now considerable weight on them. She stood over him for a moment, and when he did not react to her presence at all, she lowered herself to her side so that one massive paw was draped over his shoulder and her hind leg was over his. Wiggling in a way she'd never seen a cat move, not even Crookshanks, she folded her legs so she was able to press herself to him. 

Soft, white, furry belly to his straightened back, covered and pinned down by her legs, she inhaled his scent and closed her eyes. 

A feathery touch traced the delicate bones of one toe. "Do you realize how frightened I am?" he asked quietly, running his fingers across her paw. "This is the last thing I want to be ruined; I shouldn't even be there. I don't understand why you would ever accept my ring." 

With a sigh, sending his hair fluttering, Hermione just relaxed. Experience had taught her that should could give no adequate answer to his questions. 

"I have never understood why you tolerate me, and though I desperately want to, I don't believe I ever shall. I love you, and I love my grandmother, but..." He swallowed, and his hand tightened on her leg. "I won't do this if it's going to be a joke." 

The leg in his grasp shortened and became furless and slim, human and delicate. Instead of heavy, humid breath on his neck, there was a soft voice in his ear. "It's not a joke to me. It never will be." 

Tension began to flow out of Severus, and he relaxed in her grasp. 

"Will you tell me about these robes?" she asked, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. 

"No." 

"Will you tell me why you became a Death Eater?" To her surprise, he did not tense as she had expected. 

"No, Hermione. I won't tell you that. It's too ugly, something I hate myself for, and I don't want--" 

"I won't hate you for it." 

"You have more confidence than I do then." 

"You'll tell me one day," Hermione said, holding his hand with a strength she hoped was reassuring, "and I won't abandon you for it." She kissed the side of his neck, right on the jugular at the corner of his jaw. "Now tell me something else." 

"What?" There was a raw edge to his voice, and hesitancy. 

"What's this ritual bath that you don't want to take?" 

"I don't take it; you take it." 

"And what's so bad about that?" 

"Then I have to drink the water." 

"Oh, yuck." 

*******

"What you wear isn't important. You're not required to wear white, and I lean somewhat towards the idea that white for a wedding is rather macabre. Consider, the bride is leaving behind her entire life, even her family name, and everyone wears white in celebration of it. Not that I think brides should be wearing black, but I don't believe in ritual white. Neither does Severus," Sonia said completely seriously. 

Hermione laughed. "I hadn't planned on anything special really. It does seem a bit ludicrous to spend so much money on something only a few people will see. Dressing up for the sake of doing it. Severus doesn't believe in that either." 

"If you're done mocking my wardrobe, can we discuss the important details of this?" Severus asked, and fixed both women with a darkly intense gaze. 

"Yes, professor," they said in unison, and burst into gales of laughter. 

"Oh, for the love of Merlin. Please. You are still aware we have to break this with all gentility to the esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Granger, are you not?" 

The color drained from Hermione's face and her laughing turned into a hacking cough. "My mother will just... I don't know, but it won't be pleasant. And I have to admit, I think Severus is right about the--what did you call it?" 

"Kladka?" 

"Yes, that. She won't understand because she--" 

"Then I think we should go and find out," Sonia said evenly, standing from the table. "Don't you?" 

Hermione glanced nervously at Severus, and noted that appeared just as reluctant about this. "Right now?" 

"Of course! Come along, children." She held out her arms, inviting them to take their places within them. "We'll go, speak to them about everything, and have it all done with in one swift blow that they'll never see coming." 

"Just as long as they won't need to be obliviated." 

Sonia looked immediately to her grandson. "Severus..." 

"It was one obliviate. One obliviate won't hurt. _I've_ been obliviated before, and--stop laughing." 

With some emotional preparation, Hermione declared herself ready, and all three of them traveled to the home of the Grangers. 

The afternoon passed in a blur for Hermione, and the only thing she was really sure of was the look of disbelief on her mother's face when the news broke. Fear had flooded her, that her mother would reject her then, but that stunned expression had kept. 

Even as the kladka was handed over to her father (along with the explanation from Sonia), and then the portkey they would use to get to the house before the wedding, Hermione's mother was unreactive. 

Roger--though Hermione never referred to him by his first name--hugged his daughter, told her to behave, shook Severus' hand and told him the same, and wished them luck. 

"Mum?" Hermione said softly. "Mum, we're leaving now. You're not mad are you?" 

"You're getting married?" 

"Yes, Mum." 

"When did you grow up?" 

Somehow Hermione held her happy tears back. "I'll talk to you soon, Mum. Don't worry." 

*******

That day was the point at which time sped forward. No longer did Hermione measure her time in minutes and hours... days rushed away from her, feeling even more brief at the sheer amount of tasks she had to do. Invitations, the dinner-reception, the gathering at the house, the rings... Naturally Severus was of no help, not that she was surprised. 

Sonia was a life-saver, visiting regularly to assist her in whatever she needed, because before she was really aware of it, it was the night before the ceremony. 

"Get some sleep tonight, dear. I'll be here in the morning to help you," Sonia said, and kissed Hermione's forehead. 

"Thank you." Hermione watched the woman retreat to the guest room, pausing to scratch Crookshanks under his chin, then entering the room and shutting the door. 

"My soon-to-be wife," a voice behind her whispered, and a pair of arms encircled her waist. "I believe it's time for your ritual bath." 

"I'm not kissing you after you drink the water." She allowed him to pull her backwards to their own bedroom. 

"I thought, instead of drinking the water, I would just share it with you." 

Hermione shut the door as they passed into the room. "I don't know. Maybe you should consult your grandmother to see if this is an acceptable alteration to the ritual bath." 

"I know her well enough to say she'll approve." His hands moved up from her waist to begin undoing the buttons of her robes, and her kissed down her neck. 

A high-pitched giggle/squeal escaped when he hit a particularly sensitive spot below her neck. "Let me at least do a silencing charm," she gasped, fumbling for her wand. 

"Who cares. Let her hear," he growled, and tossed her wand away before continuing with her robes. 

*******

Hermione's hair had just been finished and now hung in two wide plaits down her back as her parents suddenly appeared in the main room. "Mum! Dad!" She hugged them in turn and gestured them to sit. "I'll get some tea. There's still an hour before we need to go see the magistrate." Skillfully she ignored her mother's tutting and went to make some quick tea. 

Her parents were the only ones they were supposed to see before the ceremony; the rest would simply meet them at the office, and then return as a group to the house. It had been surprisingly, suspiciously even, easy to get Severus to agree to having this gathering, especially with her guest list. It consisted almost solely of her invitees. 

Outside of Sonia, and Dumbledore as a mutual invite, he had requested the presence of only two others, and he hadn't told her who they were. As much as she wanted to, she didn't expect that they would be surprise guests for her benefit, and avoided considering why they might be there as often as possible. 

The tea-based pleasantries went smoothly, even when Severus swept in, looking as intimidating as ever in his immaculate black robes, more austere than normal, saw the elder Grangers and swept out without a word. 

"He's nervous," Hermione offered, and smiled as widely as she could through her own nerves. 

"Understandable, considering," her father offered happily. 

Her mother just scowled. 

How was Hermione to explain how lovely she found him in those robes, making him appear to be without an ounce of human feeling or capability for emotion? He could be king of the world dressed like that, and his authority would never be questioned. Hermione knew her cheeks were beginning to redden with the way her thoughts were straying. Too bad she was firmly harnessed into her robes, or she would have followed him for a brief interlude. 

"I suppose," Hermione started with some effort, dragging her mind back to the events at hand, "we should probably be on our way." 

"An excellent idea. I've been waiting for today; I don't want to put it off any longer," her father said, and stood. 

Hermione stood as well. This was it. 

*******

The crowd milled about, talking quietly, until there was a light chime to signal the ceremony was about to begin. The talking silenced, and the guests stood still, watching. They parted down the middle, taking sides almost instinctively. Dumbeldore, Sonia, the two utterly non-descript men in all black, and even Remus Lupin all moved to the left. The Grangers, Susan Bones, Ginny Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall all stepped to the right, leaving a very clear path down the middle. 

The door opened at the slightest of Hermione's touches, and it took all her concentration to walk forward and not make a fool of herself in front of all these people. Whether it was from crying or running or just tripping, she concentrated on her steps, making sure each one was the same distance as the previous. She was very sure the intensity showed in her eyes as she locked her gaze on Severus. 

He appeared as he had back in school: standing tall, back straight as a board, his expression carefully neutral, even uninterested, all except for his eyes. Those pierced her with an unrelenting fiery intensity that caused her to nearly stumble. But without a visible misstep, Hermione made it to the front of the room and stood next to Severus. 

Willing herself to remain still and not fidget, Hermione focused on the magistrate in front of her. Not on the people behind her or the man next to her, or even herself. Serene. Be serene. For a brief moment, she wished she had the comfort of her cloak. 

The magistrate spoke loudly and evenly. He did not rush, but neither did he drag his words out. "We are here today to join these two people in wedlock. Severus Ajax Snape, Hermione Portia Granger, you are here of your own free will, without coercion or magical influence, are you not?" 

Severus answered first. "I am." 

And then Hermione. "I am." The ring she held, his ring, was very warm and sweaty in her hand, and she silently wished she had left it in the box. 

"If there are any here who have reason to believe there is dark magic at work here, then speak now." The magistrate paused, mostly for effect. 

His answer was the blowing of a nose, and Hermione did her best to not giggle. 

"Of your own free wills, present your rings and vows to one another." 

Very evenly, Hermione breathed through her nose as first she placed the ring on his finger with a minimum of trembling, and then he did the same for her. With care she knew only from his hands, his newly-adorned right hand cradled her own. 

Their hands clasped, Hermione looked into his eyes and said, "Non virgines viri, sed ipsoemet viros, quos et quando voluerunt, accipiebant." 

Severus jerked back, looking surprised, and there was a ripple of light laughter from the contingent who were knowledgable in Latin. 

Very slowly, his right eyebrow rose, and his eyes sparkled. "Saucy wench," he growled. 

More laughter followed, and when that died down, the magistrate--appearing a bit bewildered at these "vows"--shrugged. "I declare this union legally binding in the presence of these witnesses. You may kiss." 

They did so, and the others applauded wholeheartedly. 

------------- 

**TBC**

"It is not the men who choose the maids, but the maids themselves who take the husbands they like, and when they like." 

Babushka: grandmother 

Dedushka: grandfather 

Ottsa: mother 

Kladka: sort of a dowry, but more ceremonial 

Zaichik: little bunny rabbit 

Richarda: most faithful 


	11. The Coachwhip's Dinner Guests

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Dinner Guests

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

The wards were in place, and under the equivalent of a giant magic static dome, the wedding party ate a lovely dinner in the yard. The tenderness of the roast beef was nearly to die for, which Remus commented on enthusiastically. The broasted chicken was succulent to the point of being unreal, seasoned to perfection, just like the rest of the food. 

They were all seated at a hexagonal table covered with white linen, two guests to a side. Severus and Hermione sat next to one another, and then on either side of them sat one each of the mysterious men. They never once uttered a word aloud, and very briefly, Hermione had seen them conversing away from the others. They had all looked very grim. 

Security. Protection. As she ate, her eyes slid to the man next to Severus every few minutes. Ministry? Possibly, from whatever division Severus worked in. She didn't know, except, and this worried her, that it was more secret than the Department of Mysteries. Was there actually a Magical Espionage branch of the MoM? She made a note to ask later and not expect an answer. 

Five seats away from Hermione, Albus Dumbledore stood and waited for the conversation to quiet down. When it did and all attention was directed at him, he spoke. "I think we have a round of toasts to present." One sparkling goblet of pure crystal in his hand, he held it up. "To Severus and Hermione, for not having to make an old man stand through a long ceremony." 

Everyone at the table laughed and raised their glasses. 

"And to their continued health and happiness." Glasses were raised a bit higher, but before people could drink, Remus stood. 

Hermione looked around her well-mannered bodyguard to watch him. Older, greyer, how could he possibly be thinner? It was almost a miracle he had survived this long, and without the wolfsbane potion, she was sure he wouldn't have. 

"To Severus, who finally seems to have gotten a sense of humor, and his marital vows. They were an inspiration." A grin split his tired face, and there was polite laughter. Humorous as his vows had been, it seemed less than polite to laugh now, especially for the woman at the table. 

Ginny popped up suddenly, and Remus sat slowly. "My turn! To Hermione, for putting up with Harry and my brothers long enough to make it to today. And to, er... Severus." She blushed at the use of his name. "For putting up with Harry and my brothers long enough to make it to today." 

More laughter. This was not what Hermione had pictured at all, and she found was she was enjoying it immensely. A quick glance to the man next to her proved that he was not disliking things. 

Slowly, Susan, seated between Ginny and Remus, stood. Her eyes avoided her ex-professor. "Anyone who could manage the Christmas party at the Ministry deserves a vacation. And anyone who can manage Philip without killing him deserves a toast." 

Hermione smiled widely. Not many people truly knew what a nightmare the party had been, or how much trouble Philip has given her during her time working with him. 

McGonagall stood then and looked very pointedly at the two on the opposite side of the table. It was hard to tell that this was an occasion to celebrate by the look on her face, which was as stern as Hermione had ever seen. "I knew when you were both students that you had to ability to do anything you wanted. You only had to try. I hope this means you'll be able to do greater than ever." 

Next to her, Severus nodded as his show of respect, while Hermione herself beamed. Compliments were things she was used to, but like this... It was more than she had anticipated, and certainly from the professor she had respected most. More than Dumbledore even, because the old man had his ways that were nearly impossible to interpret, and he could read people sometimes better than they could themselves. She respected him, but not as an educator, not as the headmaster of Hogwarts. She respected him as a man of power, great power. 

The same way she respected Voldemort. 

Her father was the next to stand, and she took a good look at him for the first time in what felt like ages. Even though he appeared out of place in his suit, it fit him well. He looked very handsome, and not nearly as old as his age. Maybe there was a bit of wizarding blood in the family. His hair was cut very conservatively that, as a dentist, was expected of him as a professional. It was an odd feeling, that she had never looked at her father as anything other than her father. Certainly never as a professional, well-educated man... 

Strange that her perception would change on a day like this, after their relationship had been... not strained, but withering. The gap between worlds couldn't be any wider, but they each were moving away from the edges, to immerse themselves in their own lives; she, of course, in the wizarding world, and her parents back in their Muggle lives. Hermione was a bit surprised to find tears pricking her eyes as her father smiled at her and it was so obviously filled with love. 

"Now, I might not understand a lot of what you all are talking about most of the time, but there is one thing I know for sure: my daughter is happy. That's all I need to know. I know everything will work out in the end." 

An odd statement that, considering, but... She studied her father, and it occurred to her that he knew. All the things she had tried to keep hidden because she didn't want to worry them, he knew about. In the end, they would defeat Voldemort. How could her father be so dense and insightful at the same time, and still be understanding enough to put up with her condescension? The wave of tears came that much faster. 

She glanced at her mother, and though the face was a bit strained, she was still smiling, and Hermione could tell it was genuine. She had never realized how much the approval of her parents would mean, not until that very moment. Very lightly, she felt Severus' hand on her leg, and he squeezed. Barely she held on to her control and avoided blubbering in front of everyone. 

And then last was Sonia. "Everyone else has been so perfectly eloquent, I don't have much to say other than I'm very pleased to be sharing this special occasion with all those seated at this table, and I couldn't be more pleased to see the two that we have gathered for." She raised her glass, and everyone else did as well. "To Hermione and Severus." 

Later, after they had all retired inside to talk, Hermione managed to corner one of the mysterious men. There was one near Severus and herself at all times, even surreptitiously watching the bathroom if one of them disappeared into it. The man himself was of average height, average build, brown hair, brown eyes, a bit square-jawed, and really not terribly identifiable. "Hello," she said quietly. 

"Mrs. Snape," he offered politely and nothing more. His eyes rested very briefly on her in a show of respect, but then returned to roaming the surroundings. 

"Oh no, I'll keep my name. I don't know how I would handle the end of the Granger line." She took his polite nod for what it was worth. "I know it's not better for Severus, being the last of the Snapes, but... it's what I'm used to." 

The man's detached gaze evaluated her. He nodded again. 

"So, I was wondering... do you... know Severus?" 

"I really can't speak about that," he answered tonelessly. 

"Do you work with him? Did he ask you here?" 

"I'm not at liberty to say." 

This was a conversation she was used to. This man most certainly did work with Severus, though she didn't know if he had been assigned or had ben asked to attend. "I see. I suppose I'll let you get back to your bodyguarding then." Smiling pleasantly, she returned to the other guests. 

*******

Things were silent in sharp contrast to the rest of Hermione's day. The house was blessedly quiet now that everyone was gone; their presences had been appreciated, and now so were their absences. It was time to wind down and actually allow the truth of the situation to sink in. 

"Sometimes," she said into the darkness, her hands resting on Severus' chest, "I wish I had been in Slytherin." 

She had expected that to pull a response from him, but there was nothing. 

"Do you ever wish I had been in Slytherin? We would have--" 

"No." 

"No?" 

He shifted slightly and put his arm around her shoulders. "Never." 

"Why not?" 

"Because it would mean you were a Slytherin. As infuriating as I found your reckless Gryffindor behavior to be, you simply wouldn't be you without it. My House loyalty does not and never will surpass my loyalty to you. You in Slytherin would have been a travesty." 

Hermione couldn't stop the smile that slid to her lips. "I'm glad you think so." She paused, and the smile slipped away. "I talked to both Albus and Minerva earlier..." 

"I know where this is going." 

"Do you now?" 

"Yes, and I'd hate it." 

Hermione blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"You, going off to teach at Hogwarts. I'd hate it. I would more than hate it. It's the absolutely last bloody thing I'd want you to do right now... besides trying to be a spy." 

Hermione pinched him. "For your cheek." 

That brought a short laugh. "I never said you'd be a bad teacher. Far from it, I'm sure. But to have you at the school most of the year... Misery." 

There was a faint scratching, and the bedroom door opened. 

"Old rat-catcher there would hate it too." 

"Don't make me laugh. He doesn't catch rats." 

"Hermione." 

"I didn't say yes. I'm actually not sure." She moved and propped herself up on the pillows, adjusting her position so he could rest his against her bare breasts. "You know how much I'm dissatisfied with the Ministry, and going back to Hogwarts would give me the chance to be somewhere I've always loved." Absently Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm going to need to wash your hair again; it's getting oily." 

He said barely above a whisper, "I'd still hate it." 

"Actually, I wish I had been in Ravenclaw," Hermione said, completely changing the subject. "Ravenclaw in 1970. I would have been able to find someone I had things in common with and not have that stupid House rivalry." 

"Ravenclaw, yes, because as a female in Gryffindor, you would have been obligated to swoon over those fools--" 

"Cheese?" 

"What?" 

"Cheese. With your whine." 

It was Hermione's turn to be pinched. She swatted his hands away. "Whining is unbecoming, Severus. Besides, though it might have been hard to tell, I'm not much for going directly against school rules, and certainly not in the manner Harry's father and friends did." She smiled, running her hands across his chest. "I would have preferred a nice dark corner of the library, and most preferably sharing a table with a tall, dark Slytherin. We would talk about potions, of course, and maybe experiment with some chemistry..." 

"Chemistry." Severus apparently ignored her underlying teasing and made a thoughtful sound. "Tell me, Miss Granger, can your Muggle chemistry create the same effect as one cocoa bean, an ashwinder egg, the tooth of a jarvey, a--" 

"Yes, actually. Though lots of Muggles believe in much more simplistic methods, like raw oysters." She smiled at his stunned silence. "Can't stand the things myself though. I prefer good old-fashioned foreplay." 

"And why didn't you ever tell me that?" 

Hermione laughed loudly, which was quieted by his mouth over hers. 

*******

"I'm sorry, but at this time, I feel I must decline your offer. Though the opportunity is a great one, things are at a point I believe it would be unfulfilling to all involved for me to accept your very kind offer. Severus sends his regards and I my regrets. Perhaps at a later date, as I would very much like to return to Hogwarts. Yours, Hermione Granger." 

The quill ended its movement and waited, upright, on the parchment. 

"That's quite enough," Hermione said, massaging her temple. Though she had agreed to this, it didn't feel correct, to deny something she wanted when it was so freely offered. She hoped what remained unwritten was clear. 

Crookshanks toddled up and heaved himself into her lap. 

"You're getting heavy," Hermione commented, smiling at the cat fondly and stroking his fur. "Maybe you are catching rats." The smile faded. "When will it end? There has to be an end to all this somewhere, sometime... We can't exist in a state of war, no matter how muted, forever." 

The cat began to purr brokenly and closed his eyes. 

Hermione looked out the window at the sun streaming through the trees. "What a crappy day to be melancholy," she said and sighed. Her eyes rested back on the letter she was preparing to send to Hogwarts. "One day I'll get the chance, and until then, I just have to stick to the grind." With a delicate and measured wave of her hand, the letter rolled itself and was tied with a gold and green ribbon. "Lorenz, a message to deliver," she said loudly. 

There was a moment of stillness, and then the large owl alighted on her shoulder. "Silent as always. I know it's the middle of the night for you, but take this to Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbledore, love." Hermione affixed the message to the owl's leg, allowed it to nip her finger with a sterile sort of affection, and watched it take flight. 

_She watched with awe as the huge owl landed on Severus' shoulder._

_"Don't gape, Miss Granger. It's unbecoming."_

_Hermione shut her mouth. "What kind of owl is that? I've never seen one like it before." It was even larger than Crookshanks, and while that was not terribly unusual in the world of owls, this one had such distinctive coloring..._

_"A brown fish owl. And I'm not surprised you've never seen one before. Not many go to Sri Lanka to find their owls." He stroked the patterned feathers with what looked like affection. "His name is Lorenz. I was fond of his appearance."_

_The half-lidded yellow eyes gazed impassively at her, and Hermione thought it had learned a thing or two from its master. "Hello, Lorenz," she said, but didn't dare try and touch it. A friendly nip was one thing, but those beaks could be incredibly destructive to the soft flesh of her finger._

_Unexpectedly, the bird bobbed its head in what she interpreted as a bow, and Hermione gasped._

_"You may touch him now. He should get used to your presence in any case as he will carry post for the both of us."_

_Still fearing for her finger, Hermione reached up and stroked the delicately striped feathers that covered the owl's front. "OK Lorenz, Severus, now that we're all stuck together, what happens?"_

Hermione absently stroked Crookshanks and stared out the window. She hated the necessity of her decision. She certainly didn't like deferring to Severus' wants, but they were still under the status of a "safe house" and her going to teach every day, even living at home, wasn't terribly safe. 

There certainly wasn't any way to make him defer to her wants in the situation because it involved him quitting the Ministry and returning, in whatever capacity he could fill, to Hogwarts with her. That wasn't going to happen. 

_"They own me, Hermione. I might as well wear shackles because they will never let me go while I still have a use in their eyes. That will be..." He looked away, his finger still resting on the point of her chin. "Not until I am dead."_

_She just stared, wide-eyed._

_"Even after Voldemort's defeat, I will continue to be required to pay penance for my past. It is my only option. Failure to do so will no doubt result with an extended stay in Azkaban." He looked at her, his face expressive in its lack of emotion._

_"I know it's not the same," she began quietly, still looking half-stunned, "but sometimes I feel the same way. To do something I would prefer would be abandoning where I can be the most help. To leave the Ministry would be turning my back on everyone who is trying to bring down You--Voldemort."_

_"Guilt. Both of us bound by guilt."_

*******

Hermione put on the spectacles and immediately knew she must look in some way like Minerva McGonagall. "I look like a fool, Severus." 

"Certainly, but then that means you don't resemble yourself, and that is our goal." 

"I guess." She sighed. "Why do I have to look like some school marm and you get to dress casually?" Even if he looked slightly like a leftover, underage, pub crawler. 

"I just explained that, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor for being a whiner." He buttoned up his shirt. "You look like... you belong anyway. Yes, perhaps a bit dowdy, but proper." Severus turned and took her hand. "If you ever have doubts," he said seriously, "remember this: you are the most tempting school marm I have ever laid eyes upon." 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione pulled away from him and removed her hair from the constricting bun. "That doesn't make me feel better. I don't want to look like a school marm, tempting or not." Deftly she tied her hair back into ponytail and undid the top two buttons of her dress. "Too slutty?" she asked, opening it up to reveal the barest hints of cleavage. 

He eyed her chest dispassionately. "No, I would say you are adequately slutty. Shall we go?" 

With a snort, she put her arm through his. "Thanks. So you've never been to the movies?" 

"Of course not. I make excursions to the Muggle world as little as possible. This one is dangerous enough. Even now I am having my doubts, even with you as my guide." 

"You'll manage, I'm sure. Just let me do most of the talking for a change. We'll eat at the theater; I think you'll enjoy it. These places are very posh, but not exclusive. Casual, but not for children. I know you'll appreciate that." 

Severus was getting nervous anyway, though unwilling to show it. "Quite. Where shall we head first?" 

Hermione consulted her mental map of where they were going. "Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, then it's just a short trip on the tube." 

"Tube... It sounds filthy." 

With a laugh, Hermione clutched his arm tighter. "It _is_ filthy! Let's go!" 

She made to apparate, but he stopped her with a gentle squeeze of her elbow. "Hermione, you know that if I could give you a... honeymoon more elegant than a common trip to the cinema--" 

Her fingers over his lips stopped him. "I know, Severus." She leaned up and kissed him. 

*******

The end of January was nothing extraordinary outside of the fact that every once in a while, Hermione would be struck with the thought that she was now married. _How strange._ Unfortunately, if it was from the weather or something else, she noticed Crookshanks gradually slowing down and, the most frightening, losing weight. 

"No matter what he says, you'll always be my big boy," she whispered to the ginger cat as he slept deeply, snuggled into the quilt on the bed. Her hand passed gently over his back, and she didn't like the way his fur felt rough and matted, or the way his ribs were more pronounced. A sudden wave of melancholy made her want to cry suddenly for the cat that had been with her for longer than most normal cats would live. "Who will help Severus buy me gifts if you're not around, Crookshanks?" she whispered, fighting back tears. 

The cat remained in sleep. 

Gently to avoid disturbing her pet, Hermione laid down, fitting herself around Crookshanks, and wept silently. 

*******

The first day of February dawned cold and grey. Hermione felt listless and uninspired, and Severus was more temperamental than usual. It didn't help that Crookshanks continued to deteriorate, and Hermione was positive her faithful companion would be ready to leave the mortal coil at any moment. 

Work at the Ministry was becoming more intolerable only because she knew what a chance she had been... hell, she had been forced to give up at Hogwarts. What a way to start a marriage. 

And with Valentine's Day only a fortnight away, she wasn't sure whether to indulge in the occasion and test Severus' reaction to it, or just ignore the whole thing. Certainly in school she hadn't been terribly fond of the day, but this was as far from her days amongst the Gryffindors as she was physically from the moon. 

Of course, Severus was often that same distance from mass sentimentality that the dreaded day encouraged. It was worth a giggle to mention sweetheart's day to him... 

Maybe... just a little gift for him with none of the normal trappings. Just something to lighten the oppressive mood that was settling on the house. Even if he snarled at it and turned his sarcasm on her, it would be _something_ to distract her from all the silent turmoil. 

Yes, she would get him something. "You help him shop, Crookshanks, now how about me?" she said gently, and filled a small dish with milk. "I spoil you horribly, you know that." The old boy slept a lot, but he was currently watching her intently with eyes that seemed tired to Hermione. "Here you go." 

With enthusiasm that managed to lift Hermione a little, Crookshanks began eagerly lapping up the milk, purring loudly. 

"Yes, you're going to help me later, or no more milk for you." 

*******

Work and Severus' short temper kept Hermione from shopping. While he was in one of his moods, the idea of Valentine's Day was one she didn't even want to hear someone else talking about, let alone bring up the topic or get caught participating in herself. So until she had some time to herself, she avoided the tense subjects and kept to insipid conversation. 

It was testament to his bad mood that he never said anything about the lack of intelligent banter. "Is this work related?" she dared a Thursday evening, a week shy of Valentine's Day. 

"Is what work related?" he responded tersely, not looking at her. He kept his eyes firmly on the stack of papers he held. 

"Your..." These were words to choose carefully. "Less than pleased disposition." 

"My mood, you mean." 

"I wouldn't call it that, but yes, that's what I'm talking about." So his mood wasn't as bad as she had feared. 

"Yes, it has entirely to do with that bloody Ministry and all its worthless red tape. He still didn't look at her. Very business-like, he straightened his sheaf of papers. "Until this mess is taken care of, I'm afraid you'll have to forgive my less than hospitable disposition." 

"Of course. I'll just leave you to your work then." She started to leave quietly, but Severus lifted his head suddenly and pinned her in spot with his gaze. 

"What's wrong, Hermione?" 

"N-nothing... just tired." A partial truth, but she didn't want to burden him with what was a relatively minor concern over Crookshanks. But he was so sincere, concerned, it actually hurt to say that white lie to him. 

"And what else?" 

Hermione sighed. Of course he wouldn't let it go. "It's just Crookshanks. You don't need to worry about it." 

He was on his feet and in front of her immediately. "Did you just hear yourself, Miss Granger? I am surprised at your callous attitude. Don't bother with a brave Gryffindor front this time. Tell me." One long, elegant finger rested across her cheek. "Tell an old man what could cause you of all people to look like... someone who's lost their faith." 

She wanted to fall against him and cry, but she only just got her quivering lip under control and said, "Crookshanks is getting old. He looks it, he acts it. I don't know how much..." Quivering lip firmly under control. "He's getting old." That was the best she could do. 

"Love," he murmured and drew his finger over her cheek, caressed her lips, then her jaw with his knuckle, to end with his hand under her chin. "You must know it's inevitable." 

"I know, but it's hard to watch. He's been with me over fifteen years. I don't know what I'll do when... he's gone." Oh god, that did it. The thought of there not being a big orange cat taking up half the bed in the morning, or scratching at the door when she was taking a bath (the little pervert), or any one of a hundred small things that she would sorely miss... "I know it's stupid," she whispered, and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to banish her tears. 

"It's not stupid," he said evenly, with concern, but avoiding any sort of cloying empathy. He wasn't ready to admit it aloud yet, but he would miss that cat terribly. 

Hermione leaned into him, and put her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry for bothering you with this. I know you're busy." 

"Now, Miss Granger, you know I always can make time for a distraught member of my house." He rubbed her back reassuringly. 

As strange as an outsider might have seen it, something about him adopting that whole teacher attitude comforted her in these tremulous moments. It was generally something she associated with safety and security, and a base of strength... She was such a teacher's pet and knew it. "It's everything," she said weakly into his robe. "You're always working and grouchy, I hate my job, and I just want this stupid war to end so I can do what I want for once." 

His hand was on the back of her head now. "Tired of being pushed here and there, told what you can do, what you're allowed to enjoy, what to make of your life..." 

Hermione nodded. 

"I know the feeling. Do you think you can manage through the day?" 

Absolutely not, but she nodded anyway. "I think so." 

"I'll introduce what I used for all those years. You may find it... liberating." 

That subdued expectation was what got her through the day. Hermione had never been so happy to see that fat orange beast waddle down the stairs to greet her, and she scooped him up into her arms. "That's my favorite 'Shanks-boy," she cooed, putting her nose into his long fur. 

After Crookshanks finally tired of her cuddling and forced her to release him, Hermione realized the house was otherwise silent. She sighed and looked for the note. There it was, rolled up on the small table and tied with a green ribbon. Even without opening it, she could predict what it would say. 

'Hermione, I have been unavoidably detained at the Ministry. I will return at first opportunity. Don't bother to avoid sleep for my return.' 

Out of simple habit, she opened the scroll and glanced at it. 

_Upstairs. Be silent._

Shocked into silence, Hermione removed her heavy cloak and shoes, and padded quietly up the stairs, avoiding the creaking boards of the fifth step. The bedroom door was ajar, but inside was dark. Opening it revealed a dark bedroom, but there was low light flickering from beneath the door to the bath. 

Not bothering to knock, Hermione opened the door as silently as possible and took in a very strange scene. There was a single candle, giving off the vague scent of vanilla floating in the air near the ceiling, and Severus was in the tub, immersed in water that was clear except for some iridescent swirls on its surface. 

Next to the sink was the strangest thing of all: an old-fashioned alarm clock, complete with brass hammer and two large bells. Even as Hermione watched it, the hands moved and it began ringing with the loudest, most irritating noise she had ever heard. Clapping her hands over her ears, she turned to yell at Severus, but he was already rising from the water, and, without bothering to rush, turned off the alarm. 

"I hope your day was tolerable at the very least," he said just slightly above a whisper. 

Hermione nodded. It felt wrong to talk and shatter this setting. Outside the alarm, it was utterly peaceful. 

"You can speak now. This is what I wanted to show you." 

"What was it?" Sounding shaky and unsure, Hermione cleared her throat. "What's in the water?" she asked, sounding a bit more confident now. 

Severus turned and let the water drain from the bathtub. "Something I had almost forgotten about. Would you like to try it?" 

"I don't even know what it is." Curiosity was getting the better of Hermione though, and whatever he had been doing, she wanted it as well. 

He laughed throatily, and just shook his head. When the tub was drained, he began to fill it again, but remained silent. 

Hermione watched him. 

"The alarm," he said suddenly, adjusting the water temperature, "is to ground you. One hour usually does the trick. Longer and returning can be... uncomfortable." There was a small blue phial on top of the tap that had gone unnoticed that he opened. A silvery liquid drizzled from it and swirled into the churning water. "Go one then. Get undressed and get in." He looked back at her expectantly after the phial had been recapped. 

Still unsure as to what this was, but inevitably trusting, Hermione disrobed, and slid into the water, hissing as the slightly hot water hit her sensitive areas. She waited, watching Severus watch her, as the water rose until it hit her chin. 

"There. Relax completely, breathe deeply. Just..." He stood and set the alarm. "Relax, and let your mind wander." A lop-sided smile. "Think about potions." And then he slipped from the room and shut the door. 

Hermione sat in the hot water, the contents from that mysterious phial swirling around her, and waited. What she was waiting for, she didn't know, but the water and silence and flickering light and gentle smell of vanilla did serve to relax her. 

It was when her thoughts began to blur that she wondered what exactly was in her bath water. Thoughts stretched, separating from one another, from herself and where she was, until it was like she was flying. Mind was separate from body was separate from worries. 

What _was_ in that water? 

Roughly an hour later, Hermione emerged from the bathroom in a fluffy towel, stretching her already loose muscles. Bed sounded glorious at the moment. 

"Have a little something to eat," Severus said from the bed. In front of him there was a tray with some bread, a bowl of soup, and a glass of water. "A little something before bed so you don't wake up famished." 

"I feel like I could sleep for a week," Hermione said, smiling lazily as she sat next to him, careful not to disturb the tray. She picked up a thick slice of Italian bread, lightly buttered, and began to nibble on it. She went to speak more of the experience, but found the words wouldn't come. It was something she wanted to keep exclusively to herself. And he hadn't asked her anything about it because, of course, he knew. "Thanks," she said quietly, and for the time being, that was the end of it. 

*******

The next day went much easier for Hermione, and it was after she left the Ministry at the end of the day she went to Dominion's Clothier. It was an upscale menswear store that she often browsed, but rarely purchased from, and located--conveniently--just a few doors down from Gringotts. 

The tall wizard behind the counter watched her as she examined the racks. Under normal circumstances, he would probably be intimidating, but very little managed to do that to her now. Possibly coming face-to-face with Voldemort. 

Here was something, a more traditionally cut set of robes, in black, made of a shining, silky soft material. Running her fingers down it, Hermione smiled. Then she saw the price, and almost choked. Just barely she managed to not say something aloud, like, "Holy Merlin, mother of a basilisk!" 

"Nundu." 

She turned and looked at the wizard. "Pardon me?" 

"Nundu. That's what it's made of. We only get something like that once in a lifetime." 

Hermione let out a low whistle. "Wow. It's beautiful and completely out of my price range." 

"A stunning piece, yes. Perhaps I could... assist you?" Cool and professional, but not completely condescending. 

"Perhaps. I was looking for something classical, but not stifling. Subdued, elegant. Classy enough for the Ministry, but not--" 

"Of the sort the esteemed Minister wears?" 

The man's expression never changed, and Hermione laughed. "Exactly. My... husband is rather too traditional. I'd like to update his clothes a bit, but without getting radical. He's definitely a man of refined tastes. Quality over style." She looked longingly at the robes of nundu skin. "Perhaps just a shirt and trousers. He hates Valentine's Day." 

"Not incomprehensible. Perhaps this?" A shirt was suddenly there for Hermione's inspection. "A unique blend. Strong and supple, and quite... enticing." 

As Hermione ran her hands over the material, she couldn't help but smile at the liquid feel of the material. In the light, it had the strangest shimmering quality to it. "What's it made of?" 

"Silk and demiguise hairs. Not enough to actually turn the wearer invisible of course, but..." He smiled then, both charming and perverted at the same time. 

Hermione looked from the shirt to his face. "How much?" 

*******

It was the evening before the dreaded day, and Hermione was in high spirits. "I bought you something," she said suddenly as she watched Severus take a sip of steaming mint tea. 

He looked up and arched one eyebrow. 

"Just because. It has nothing to do with tomorrow." She felt positively giddy about it. 

"Ah." Severus took another sip of tea. 

Hermione popped to her feet. "I'll go get it." She rushed from the room and returned with a wrapped box, this time with ivory paper and a pure white ribbon. "I hope you like it." 

Slowly, Severus freed to box, looking as if it might bite him at any moment. Not receiving any bodily harm, he lifted the lid and stared inside. "And what do you call these?" 

"Really sexy." 

"Ridiculous, you mean." 

"Sexy. Go try them on!" Grinning widely, Hermione watched him lift the contents with just his thumb and index finger. "They won't bite. Just wear them." 

"Are you certain they're actually dead?" He eyed the item with clear distaste. 

Simply grinning, she grabbed his hand and forced him to his feet, dumping the box on the floor. "Come on, grouch." She led him to the bedroom, then shoved him into the bathroom. "Don't come out until that's all you're wearing," she said, and shut the door. 

He grumbled, but soon the sound of clothing being discarded reached her ears, and Hermione hurried to her next task. 

For his part, Severus was doing his best to deal with the situation. Nothing quite this... Humiliating wasn't the right word. Horrid perhaps. Ridiculous certainly. Outrageous only from Hermione. The fabric slithered up his legs, and the very concept that he was about to slide the dead flesh of an arctic viper over his privates made him shudder. Not that it felt bad really. It was just creepy. Arctic vipers were some of the most venomous snakes on the planet. "Only for Hermione," he whispered to himself, and emerged from the bathroom. 

Hermione was reclining on the bed and smiling. She had shed her robes, and was in a white shirt of some wondrously gauzy material that shimmered in the pale light of the newly risen moon. Blinking several times did not remove the strange effect of the shirt being teasingly transparent. "I forgot," she said breathily, and stood. The shirt came to the middle of her thighs. "I got this for you too." 

Their eyes locked. Just as he lifted her, her eyes moved down to what he was wearing, and she began to laugh. Then his fingers started wriggling across her sensitive ribs, and her laughter became howling shrieks of uncontrollable laughter, and her legs flailed. 

She was dumped on the bed, and he pounced, pinning her there. "You think these are funny, do you?" 

Hermione squirmed beneath him. "Yes, but they also feel..." She paused and gyrated her hips, grinding them against his. Before she could finish, she heard him growl and he kissed her savagely. 

*******

Morning dawned a bit too early for Hermione's tastes, but it wasn't quite as bad when she could wake up in some sort of puzzled tangle of limbs and bodies with Severus. She tried to free herself with as little jostling as possible, but for every limb she got loose, he would perform some new Twister-esque move to keep her in bed. "Stop that, and stop pretending to be asleep," she snapped, and finally just pulled herself away from him. 

"It was much better when you were here though," Severus murmured, not opening his eyes. 

Hermione just snorted, and started her morning routine. 

"I got you something for today," he said suddenly as Hermione was pulling out a set of deep red robes. 

She paused, then put the robes back, and got out a set of royal blue ones instead. "Did you?" she said, maintaining neutrality in her voice. All she wanted to do was throw herself at him and kiss him senseless. 

"It might distract you from the day though. Maybe it should wait until tonight." 

Forcing herself to be calm and act as if this was part of what she did each morning, Hermione calmly got out the rest of her clothing. "I doubt it. But if you prefer, it can wait." 

"Mm. I'll go get it." 

A rustle of fabric from behind her, and from the corner of her eyes, she watched him leave the room. There was a soft whooshing of wings, and Hermione looked up to see their owl sitting on the door. "Hello, Lorenz. A message so early in the morning?" 

The owl didn't move, and didn't appear to have a message either. Curious. "A social visit then? I've always thought you were something of an odd duck. No offense." 

Lorenz hooted softly, but didn't move. 

Another moment passed, and Crookshanks wandered in, stopping at Hermione's feet and looking at her expectantly. He meowed. 

Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Hermione looked at the cat and the bird. "This means something, I'm sure." She stopped and lifted Crookshanks. "So what have my husband and his orange cohort gone and done this time?" she asked, scratching her cat under the chin. 

"It's not much," Severus said from the hallway, "but you know how I hate this day." 

"Of course, Sev--" Her breath caught in her throat as he stepped into the room and she saw what he was holding. "Severus?" She looked at him, her gaze confused and questioning. 

"I thought Crookshanks could... acclimate her." Walking over, he stood in front of her, cradling to his chest a small orange and white puff of fur. 

Hermione looked at each witness, her gaze becoming more accusing until it returned to Severus. "You even had Lorenz and Crookshanks in on this?" 

He just smiled mildly at her. "Certainly. They had to accept her. I wouldn't consider just bringing in a stranger to live with us without getting the approval of the other members of the household." To prove his statement, he held the puffball out to Crookshanks, who began to purr more vigorously and licked the tiny kitten's back. 

"Does... she have a name?" 

"Not until you give her one." 

There was silence while she considered everything that had just happened, and then the tiny animal in her husband's hands. "Kitsune." Hermione smiled, almost shyly. "She even has white feet." 

"Indeed." 

It was clear he had no idea what she was referring to. "Well, I suppose acquainting myself with her will have to wait until this evening then. I don't believe she'll be too distracting, as I have very little at the Ministry to be distracted from." Hermione, mustering as much dignity and self-control as she could at the moment, ran one finger across the kitten's downy fur, then gave Severus a firm smile. "Thank you." Her eyes teared, but none fell. 

"It is my pleasure." He kissed her cheek, then allowed her to resume getting ready. 

Though it was true that there was little for her to be distracted from, Hermione was terribly anxious to return home. Susan noted her unusual lack of patience at lunch, and Hermione excitedly told her of the new addition. 

Though she was eager to get home as quickly as possible, she still adhered to all the security precautions to maintain the integrity of their protective wards around the house. As soon as she opened the door, she heard a loud squawking noise, and an orange and white blur shot from the library into the sitting room. Crookshanks was close behind. "I'm home?" 

"Kitsune is investigating her new surroundings under close supervision," Severus called from down the hall. "Tea is ready." 

"I see that," Hermione said and peered into the sitting room. A wild-eyed kitten was clinging to the arm of the sofa, staring intently at her. Crookshanks was eyeing the scene harshly, as if he had never seen such scandalous behavior. Done it, yes, witnessed it, no. Chuckling to herself, Hermione went to fetch herself some tea. 

There was comfortable silence as she sat at the table, and Severus placed a steaming mug in front of her. She shook her head as she heard the thudding of paws tearing around on the hardwood floors. "You've had to listen to that all day?" 

He shook his head. "After you left, they caterwauled most of the morning." 

"Regret it?" 

He lifted one eyebrow. "I regret this," he said and tapped his left forearm. "I don't regret a cat." 

"Mm. Happy Valentine's Day, even if it is awful." 

"Quite right." 

Hermione maintained her soft smile as she sipped her tea. This lasted only a few moments as there was a sudden pounding on the front door. Her hand jerked, and she sent tea splattering across the tabletop. "What the--" 

Severus was already striding to the front door, and Hermione followed him belatedly, wand in hand. 

"Severus Snape." 

"You know very well it's me," he snapped. 

Hermione could imagine the irritated roll of his eyes at the Ministry agents standing on the porch. 

"As a representative of the Ministry of Magic, and as maintainer of this safe house--" Alarm bells went off in Hermione's brain. "--we leave one Garry Fudge in your care." The man in his official looking black robes stepped aside to reveal a young man, boy really, behind him. 

"What!?" 

"This is a designated safe house. Mr. Fudge has recently been targeted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and is in need of protection," the Ministry rep replied in his lawkeeper's voice. "This was decided to be the optimal location for him. More information will be provided in the morning." 

The boy, looking small and scared, was roughly herded past Severus. He just stood there, huddling into himself, as the agents bid a good evening, and disappeared as abruptly as they had arrived. 

"Hell's bells. What are we supposed to do with this?" Severus asked, slamming the door shut and gesturing at the new guest. 

**TBC**


	12. The Coachwhip's Domesticity

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Domesticity

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

"Severus!" Hermione snapped. "Why don't you go and make sure the guest room is cleaned up?" She gave him a piercing look and gestured up the stairs with her head.

"Fine." Looking angry beyond reason, he stomped up the stairs. 

Hermione had watched the boy shrink back from the outburst, and he looked near to tears. She kneeled down in front of him. "What's your name?"

The boy's blue eyes met with her own briefly, then looked at the floor. "Garry."

"Ah. I have a friend named Harry. Are you hungry?"

He shook his head.

"Are you sure? Maybe some hot chocolate..."

He looked at her once again, and nodded shyly.

"My name's Hermione," she said evenly, and stood. "You can just ignore Mr. Snape. He likes to yell." Though Garry didn't respond, he followed her dutifully back to the kitchen, clutching his knapsack to his chest. Hermione conjured up some truly magical hot chocolate along with a variety of cookies. "Help yourself."

Hermione watched in silence as he drank from the mug and nibbled on the cookies. He actually reminded her a little of Harry, with his wide, guileless eyes and tousled black hair. The look of innocence. 

From overhead, she could hear Severus stomping about angrily. He certainly couldn't be mad at this poor boy, but he had little else to vent his frustration at. The Ministry would just shake its collective head and inform him it was his duty, and if he refused, then there was no doubt a comfortable cell he could rest in until his trial for treason.

"How long do I have to stay here?"

Looking away from the ceiling to her guest, Hermione didn't speak. An excellent question. "I don't know, Garry. Do you know why they wanted you to stay here with us?"

The boy shook his head, his eyes sad and scared.

"I suppose we'll just have to wait until tomorrow. Do you think you might be able to get some sleep?" Get the boy to sleep, then try to settle Severus down somehow. Hermione had a busy night ahead of her.

"I guess."

Hermione affixed a pleasant smile to her face. "Are you scared?" 

A shy nod.

"Crookshanks!" After a few moments, Crookshanks wandered into the kitchen with Kitsune close behind. "Crookshanks, this is Garry," she said gently. "This is Crookshanks--" She placed her hand on the larger cat's head. "--and this is Kitsune." She went to put her hand on Kitsune's head as well, but the kitten responded to her movement by sinking claws and teeth into her.

"Ow! Son of a--"

Taking offense at the attack, Crookshanks whopped the kitten with one paw, and knocked her roughly to the floor. Kitsune assumed this was an invitation to play, and rolled to her back, batting at the air.

Garry giggled.

That brought a genuine smile to Hermione's lips even through the sting of the attack. "We just got Kitsune yesterday. She's a bit rambunctious." Not daring the kitten's wrath further, Hermione stood. "Crookshanks, you'll make sure Garry is all right, won't you?"

"He understands you?"

"Of course. Why, don't you have a familiar, Garry?" After having Crookshanks for so long, the idea was absurd. Why wouldn't anyone want one?

He shook his head.

"How old are you?" Strange that he wouldn't. He looked old enough for one.

"Ten."

Putting one hand on the shoulder of the boy, Hermione steered him out of the kitchen. "Almost old enough to get a wand then. What about school?"

A shrug.

Well, if Hogwarts was in his future, he wouldn't receive that letter until his eleventh birthday. "I went to Hogwarts," she continued. "Have you heard of it before? The headmaster is a very powerful wizard; some time in the future I'm going to teach there. And Mr. Snape used to teach there. What's your favorite subject?" 

Garry shrugged again as they went slowly up the stairs.

"Charms? Transfiguration? Potions? I liked them all. The teachers at Hogwarts are the best. Mr. Snape, before he left, was the most brilliant Potions Master in Scotland, maybe on the whole British Isle." Hermione was babbling, but without any response from Garry, she had to fill the silence in some way.

Thankfully the upstairs was silent and the hall empty. Severus had already retreated to the bedroom. "Would you like Crookshanks to keep you company tonight? He's a very good watchcat." She watched the boy lift his fingers to his mouth, then jerk them away as if just realizing his age.

"OK."

Severus had given the guest room a quick cleaning charm, and switched out the light floral bedspread for one that was grass green and smelled lightly of pine. The picture of the beach that hung over the bed and was usually silent was now audible with the gentle breaking of waves. "You can sleep in here. I'll be across the hall, and the bathroom is right next door. Crookshanks and Kitsune will stay in here with you." Hermione glared at the kitten, whose green eyes were fixed on the expanse of green blanket.

"Crookshanks, make sure Kitsune behaves," she said sternly for the tiny terror's benefit. "And if there's anything wrong..."

The cat just turned his back and jumped up on the bed. Kitsune was close behind, climbing up covers.

First tapping a small covered light with her wand and bringing it to life, Hermione pulled back the covers. "Do you want me to wait, or do you want to do this by yourself?" She looked behind her to see Garry watching the two cats make themselves comfortable.

"I-I can do it," he said quietly.

"Right across the hall if you need anything. Good night." Hermione pat the boy on the shoulder, then left, closing the door. Being supportive was a lot more difficult than she had believed it to be. Her lips curled upwards as she heard the grumbling even through the closed door across the hall.

"The story they feed me had better be worthy of a literary _prize_," Severus snapped as soon as she entered the room. "They have me by the ba--"

"Stop it. So they're leaving this boy here for a little while. It's not like we're actually responsible for him." That wasn't true, but to phrase it as she had originally meant to hadn't felt right. 

_He's not our child._

Severus just scowled and turned back the covers. Apparently he could understand what she hadn't said. "We are responsible. Not completely, but we have to take care of him, put up with his presence until whoever it was that dumped him here decides to put him someplace else." Every movement was performed with a degree of hostility as he got into bed.

Hermione managed to be a bit more pragmatic about it. "Yes, but I'm sure this was all for a good reason. They really can't expect us to actually _raise_ him." She hoped. The possibilities raced through her mind as she got ready for bed. "How are supposed to go to work if we have to watch him? They have to do something."

A snort from Severus as she climbed into the bed. "They need do nothing. They are the Ministry, and if something they want inconveniences people like us, then that's unfortunate." His voice climbed in volume as he spoke.

"Not so loud." Hermione tried to find a comfortable position, but she was too concerned to relax. "This is the Ministry's fault, not Garry's. Don't treat him like a cockroach."

Next to her, Severus just grunted, then rolled to his side.

*******

They were in the middle of a quiet and somewhat tense breakfast when the visitors showed up again.

"Too much to ask for them to take him..."

"Severus!" This was futile. "Garry, why don't you go on upstairs while we deal with this? That's a good boy." Hermione watched him retreat up the stairs and sighed, mostly in frustration. Apparently adding one child to the house meant she'd have to take care of two, and there was nothing worse than Severus acting childishly. "Perhaps we should go into the library," she suggested, regaining some of her composure, "where we can be sure the conversation is kept private." 

As soon as the door was closed and the silencing charm in place, the shorter of the two Ministry officials began talking. "We have the full details here for you to read at your leisure," he said, and the second man handed over a thick folder.

Severus snorted, but took it. "Full details indeed."

"He'll have to stay for an indeterminate time. For that period, you will be compensated for--"

The silky, professorial tone was engaged at full intensity. "Are you gentlemen aware of what I do exactly?"

They looked at each, then at Severus, who was eyeing them dangerously.

"You work at the Ministry. Any leaves you--"

"But you're not aware of what I do for the Ministry then. I'm sure the Minister of Magic would be pleased to know exactly where you're leaving this child."

The short man blinked. "But it was the Minister that assigned him here."

"_Why?_" Hermione blurted out. Severus wasn't trusted by the Ministry really, and to actually put the care of a child in his hands...

Swearing under his breath, Severus snarled at the men. "That fool. Doesn't Willthorpe have an ounce of sense?"

"I'm sure the Minister had his reasons. I don't know why here specifically, and it's not my place to ask, but I can tell you that as the grandson of the former Minister of Magic, and as a target of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named--"

"Doesn't that get tedious?" Severus asked dryly.

"What?"

"Always saying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I pity the quill forced to write that in any correspondence. Try Voldemort; it's shorter." He gave a nasty smile at the looks of horror on the men's faces.

The taller one looked a bit green, and when the other resumed talking, it was with an audible stammer. "Yes, well, as I was saying, the boy's been made a target, and because of his relation to the former Minister of Magic, he's been given--"

"Special consideration. Yes, isn't that so comforting to all the others murdered and not given such thought. Gentlemen, good day and get out. Do not return until you plan on removing that... boy from my house."

As if whipped, the two men slunk out with Severus maintaining a steady glare at their backs. "Willthorpe leaves Fudge's grandson with me. Pardon me for a moment."

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

Severus began to laugh. Loudly. "The irony is too rich to ignore, my dear. You must know how much Fudge hated me."

"Severus, he's just a little boy," Hermione said evenly, not liking the gleam in his eyes at all. "Don't take anything out on him. He's scared witless, and you're not helping at all." Now it was time to assume her mistress of the house mode. "I will take the time off to watch him; you don't need to worry your pretty head over it. Besides, you'd probably damage him."

He raised his eyebrows. "Of course I would, the better to get him out of my sight."

Hermione rubbed her forehead. "This isn't going to be fun."

*******

"I never heard anything about this..."

Hermione flipped back a page, then forward a page. If the Ministry was actually holding anything back in the report, she would have been surprised.

The Ministry had ceased surprising her a long time ago.

She looked up at the boy currently focused on a piece of parchment in front of him, an orange quill scratching over it. He glanced up, but not to look at her, but at the orange cat perched, to Hermione's disapproval, on the table as well. Garry looked back at the parchment, the quill moving again; his tongue slowly peaked out from between his lips in a show of concentration.

"Garry," Hermione said slowly, "did anyone ever tell you why they wanted to put you here?" He had said he didn't know before, but things were slightly different now.

Not looking away from his effort, he shook his head.

"Nothing at all? Didn't they think you'd be afraid if you had to be away from your parents?"

"Dad said I was old enough to live away from home for a little bit, so I'd get used to it for when I go to school." He was still looking at the parchment. His words were easy, without concern.

Without knowing exactly what the boy was capable of, Hermione wasn't sure what to ask him to find out if it was true, but... "Would you mind if I tried something, Garry? I might be able to figure out why they sent you here."

The quill paused, and he looked up. "I... guess. Mr. Snape doesn't like me," he said hesitantly, but at normal volume. "If he doesn't like me, why do they want me to stay here?"

This was a dilemma Hermione didn't really want to deal with. "I'm going to tell you some things, Garry, and I want you to listen closely. Have your parents every told you about Voldemort? Or You-Know-Who?"

"I heard them talking about You-Know-Who before, but... I didn't know who." Garry frowned.

"His name is Voldemort, and he's an evil wizard. Your parents sent you here to protect you from the evil wizard." Best not to say the evil wizard was after him. "Mr. Snape and I work for the Ministry--" 

"Where granddad was?"

"Yes, where your granddad was. So Mr. Snape and I are going to look after you for a little while. That way, your parents and your granddad and the Ministry will know right where you are." Hermione tried to give him her most reassuring smile. "You can be strong for all those people, can't you?"

It appeared an effort, but Garry nodded. His eyes sparkled suspiciously.

"And don't you worry. You'll get to see your mum and dad. Can I try that little test now?" She took his hand when he nodded. "All right, let's try..." Mentally she riffled through her library of spells and decided on the absolute most basic. Her fingers positioned themselves automatically on her wand in her pocket. Oh, to be a duelist now. "Something simple then." Taking a breath, Hermione drew out her wand and pointed it at her empty mug on the table. "_Win_--"

Something she could imagine to be a lightning bolt shot down her arm, through her wand, and with a very visible ray, struck the mug. It hit the ceiling and shattered, raining pieces all over the kitchen.

"--_gardium_... Wow." For a few stunned seconds, Hermione could only stare at the spot her mug had been. The words hadn't left her lips, but the thought of the spell had been very clear. "Wow." Carefully, she placed her wand on the table and held her hand palm up. "_Lumos_." Her hand glowed with a pale blue light.

"Garry," Hermione said very calmly as the light faded, "have you ever done magic without a wand?"

"Sometimes."

"Have your parents?"

"Sometimes, but only when I'm around. That's what they say."

"Wait here, Garry." With effort, Hermione removed her hand from his shoulder, then hurried out of the kitchen.

*******

Severus looked unaffected. "That would certainly be a motive to kidnap him."

"That's all you have to say?" Such possibilities and all he was doing was sitting there. "Aren't you at all amazed at this? It's beyond anything I've ever seen, or read, or even really dreamed of!" 

"And this," he said holding up one finger, "is the exact reason we must never tell anyone about it. Unfortunate enough that the Ministry already knows, and Voldemort of course." He lowered his hand and tapped on the tabletop with that one finger. His eyes stared fixedly at Hermione, lost somewhere in thought. "There's nothing to be done. He must stay. With luck, this ability is rare, and Voldemort isn't able to locate any others. If he does... I'm sure we'll know."

"That makes me feel lots better. Thank you for the words of confidence." Powerless. There was nothing they could do. With a disgusted sigh, she stood and busied herself with making a sandwich for Garry. Annoyance, frustration, and exasperation at the situation made looking at everything rationally impossible. "What are we supposed to do?" Hermi9one asked, still wanting a definitive answer. They could keep Garry there forever; there needed to be a solution to the situation.

"We wait. Moves will be made by one side or the other. There is nothing we can do directly."

She hated when he was calm and correct. "This just seals it. You had better get used to the idea of me being at Hogwarts because I am not putting up with this again." The chef's knife in her hand sliced cleanly through the sandwich. "Maybe if only one of us worked for the Ministry, they might consider our situation before they just dumped their problems on us."

"Doubtful."

Thoughtful, but not put out at all by her declaration. He wasn't taking her seriously. Hermione sighed. "I hate it when you do this." 

"Do what?"

"Ignore me. I mean it. I'm going to teach at Hogwarts." But she couldn't look at him, couldn't meet his gaze. The sandwich was accusing enough.

"Of course you are."

With an angry snort, Hermione grabbed the sandwich and walked out, not looking at Severus. This was not the time, especially when she put up with his little tantrums so well, and he just condescended to her. Bastard.

Crookshanks hopped up on the table and looked calmly at Severus. There was a scrabbling noise as Kitsune attempted to make it to the chair.

"Don't look at me like that," Severus said, scowling at the cat. "She didn't mean it, even if she thinks she did."

Crookshanks just blinked his yellow eyes slowly. The very end of his tail flickered.

"She's just worked up over this. Give her another day and she'll be so wrapped up in analyzing that boy she'll forget today ever happened." He paused, resisting the urge to squirm under the cat's gaze. "It doesn't help to get emotional. It needs to be reasoned out. Everything I said was perfectly logical, and she'll see that." He stood suddenly, the chair squealing. "Stop looking at me like that." 

As if he were completely innocent of any accusation, Crookshanks tilted his head to the side and yawned.

Outside, Hermione had triple strengthened the wards, testing out Garry's amazing... ability? Capacity? Whatever it was, she could cast the wards that had taken four well-trained wizards to put in place all by herself. Not an ounce of fatigue after, either. "You don't feel a thing?"

Garry bit into the sandwich and shook his head.

"Amazing," Hermione mumbled to herself, and looked at the canopy of trees above them. The sun was bright through the skeletal branches, and thanks to a minor warming charm, she and Garry were enjoying the bright, snow-free day. Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, Hermione leaned back in her chair.

There was no rest for her mind any longer. Every spare moment was spent considering the this development. Surely wizards and witches like Garry had existed before, but simply had never been discovered. If only Professor Binns were a bit more... well-versed in history outside goblin rebellions; there was the slight possibility he could tell her a little something. It was hard to accept that she had to stay outside of this mystery, and put up with a very grouchy Severus. Patience, which had been one of her strong suits, was going to be running low over the next while.

"Ready to go back inside?" she asked. The excursion into the waning Scottish winter had been just long enough for her to have her talk, and now it was better to be inside. She was confident in her security measures, but she had more to worry about than just herself now. Guilt and self-recrimination were mentally barking at her for leaving Garry alone for even a short time.

It was starting to feel frighteningly natural as Garry took hold of her hand. At first, she had put it as a friendly face in a confusing situation, and then doubt at why a boy his age would do such a thing, and now... simple acceptance. Hermione was starting to believe that the boy didn't have the type of home life she was familiar with.

"We can go write a note to your mum and dad. Would you like that?" 

Garry nodded, giving her one of his rare smiles.

"Then that's what we'll do."

*******

The next week, Garry sent and received and sent once more a letter to his parents. Everything was fine on both ends, everyone was missing one another, Mrs. Granger was nice and Mr. Snape was best avoided, and Crookshanks and Kitsune were cute and Garry wanted a familiar just like them.

Garry shared his letters with Hermione, to her relief, as she could see the boy's parents didn't hold animosity for the situation. Or, if they did, they never revealed it to their son. Whatever the reason, it did indeed seem that Garry Fudge had been purposely left in their care.

"Done?"

Garry set aside his quill and rolled up the parchment. "Yes."

Lorenz waited dutifully, and while the bird allowed Garry to fix the letters to his leg, the boy was intimidated by the flat stare and had Hermione do it.

"There you go, Lorenz." Hermione stroked the owl gently with the back of her hand and received an affectionate hoot in response. With the niceties finished, Lorenz stretched his wings, giving the humans warning of his impending flight for a moment, and took off.

Most likely there would be no answering letter until the next day. It was not a short flight to London, and it was already dark outside. "I think it's time for dinner," Hermione said as the noise of Lorenz's flight from the house faded. The two were still alone, but she knew that was Severus' way of "dealing" with their visitor. The less he was around, the less he would have to deal with having the child in the house. Secretly, Hermione knew his real reasoning: the more Severus worked, the less he would frighten Garry. "What should it be?" Of course, Garry would have one dinner while the adults had another. The idea of having bangers and mash or beans on toast again was not a pleasant one.

Just looking at those sausages made her gain weight. Naturally a boy like Garry would love them; he seemed to exist on a diet that consisted of anything and everything fattening. The kitchen had been bare of anything sweet from the third day Garry had been there, and there was at least one request per day for wine gums or custard or a Swiss roll.

Wine gums maybe, but none of the others. Hermione's sweet tooth was too hard to control with so much temptation around. "Shepherds Pie, how about that?" she suggested while Garry was still considering his options. "Won't take too long." Neither Garry nor Severus ever seemed to notice that the potatoes she used were instant anyway.

As per the dinner ritual, after Garry had agreed to Shepherds Pie, Hermione got down the jar of pickled onions. Two would hold the boy until the food was done and allow her to finish with a minimum of distractions.

The plan worked, but as the hour grew later, nine now, and dinner long finished, Hermione grew worried. She always got worried if Severus was too late. When he had his... duty to attend to, she was nervous, but it was a situation she could plan for. This waiting, not knowing, was enough to drive her mad.

Half past now, and Garry was starting to wilt. "Let's get you into bed, shall we?" Hermione said suddenly. Slowly she got him up and steered him to the stairs. "I'm sure you'll get a reply tomorrow from your parents."

The door crashed open, and in swept Severus. He appeared merely irritated, but that entrance was trouble, and Hermione knew it. Sparing the two on the stairs watching him the barest glance, he removed his heavy cloak with rare flourish and hung it up. It was as he started to remove his lighter cloak that Hermione got her idea. 

She was still holding Garry's hand as she took out her wand. "_Accio_ Severus," she whispered, and grinned.

With a cry of surprise, Severus was yanked across the room with a speed that was definitely not safe for the conditions. Hermione's grin disappeared as Severus flew at her, and she yelped when he crashed into both herself and Garry. They ended up in a painful heap at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione groaning beneath two other bodies.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Severus yelled, struggling to his feet unmercifully dumping Garry to one side and knocking her arms apart. "Of all the stupid... Where's my wand?"

It felt like someone was banging on a pan right next to her ear and sending the vibrations right into her brain. Focusing on Severus was an effort at the moment, but she didn't need to see his face to know he was mad. "I was just..."

He continued to rant on about the little prank, though Hermione wasn't listening. She was trying, in fact, to not listen. The volume of his voice was making her head throb worse. If he'd just shut up for a minute...

"Snape! What in the bloody hell did you do to them?"

Things were moving very fast now, and Hermione wasn't quite sure what all these 'things' were. Severus turned around to look at the originator of this new voice. Off to her left, Garry was huddled on the floor looking scared, and she was still trying to get her muddled thoughts in some sort of order.

"Not a damned thing, Black," Severus hissed in return. "I didn't invite you here, and I certainly didn't invite you to interfere in personal business!"

Black. Sirius then. Strange that he would show up. There was a rough caress of her hand, and Hermione saw Crookshanks lick it, watching her with concern in his yellow eyes. Kitsune looked more confused than anything.

"Personal business?" Both of the men's voices were at maximum volume now. "If your personal business includes beating up Hermione and scaring the piss out of a kid, then you better believe I'm going to interfere!"

"Stop," Hermione said, but her voice was weak, and was lost in the shouting.

"Piss off; you have no idea what's happening."

"I have idea enough, you bastard!"

From her vantage point on the floor, leaning partially against the stairs, Hermione saw Severus reach for his wand, but came up empty-handed. His entire body tensed.

"Ha! Take your body-bind quietly and I might not hurt you, Snape." 

So Sirius must have had his wand out and pointed at Severus. This was not good. "Sirius, wait."

At the sound of her voice, which could finally be heard now that the men had stopped shouting, Severus tensed. Reacting to the subtle body movement, Sirius' yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

Even at such a short distance, Severus' reflexes were lightning quick, and where there had been a man standing, there was now a snake quickly moving between Sirius' feet and out the door.

"What the hell...?" Sirius spun around, ignoring the fact that his spell had only missed Hermione by a foot, and looked into the darkness. "It won't be that easy," he growled, and transformed with equal speed into dog form.

That was bad, and Hermione forced herself, ignoring the swimming of her head, to sit up, then get to her knees. "Stay here, Garry." And then she began crawling to the door. The sounds of growling came from the yard, and running. Still chasing... "Sirius! Stop!" Why was it men never listened to her until she had to knee them in the balls to get their attention?

Holding on to the doorjamb, Hermione pulled herself to her feet and walked unsteadily outside. It was hard following the quick moving shape of the black dog, and she couldn't actually catch him on her wobbly legs. "Sirius!" she yelled again, hoping he'd hear her.

The shape of the dog headed in her direction. More than likely, Severus was attempting to get back inside. Hermione would be able to stop Sirius at that point. But that point never came.

At the edge of the cone of light spilling form the doorway, she saw a snake followed closely by a dog, and the dog lunged. A small, frightened shriek escaped Hermione as the dog's paw caught the snake beneath it, hissing madly. Without care for herself, Hermione practically threw herself at the dog, grabbing him around the neck and trying to pull him back.

"Let him go, Sirius! Stop it! You'll crush him!" Hermione was fully aware that as she had aged, she hadn't maintained her youthful slimness. But a little extra always looked healthier than not enough, no matter what Lavender and Parvati had always declared back in school.

_And a little of that goes to your breasts._

Straining, Hermione pulled with all her might at the dog, putting even those beginnings of love handles into it. "You let him go!"

With a casual shake, Sirius tossed her aside and lowered his head, jaws open wide, to the snake struggling under his paw.

"SIRIUS!" Hermione screamed, and at the start of the third syllable, her scream turned into the ear-splitting shriek of an enraged tigress.

As if kicked with great force in the ribs, Sirius skittered away, his ears flat and tail between his legs. Eyes wide with fear and confusion, he stared at Hermione. With bared teeth, ears flat as well, and legs bent in preparation to pounce, the white tiger stepped forward slowly, the green eyes never leaving Sirius.

The snake had not moved, and there was a threat that passed from tiger to dog. _He dies, so do you._ Utter silence except for the low growl coming from Hermione.

Dog shimmered, outline blurring, and became man. "Hermione? You almost gave me a heart attack."

Hermione didn't change her posture at all. She didn't plan on it until she could be sure Severus was safe.

"Come on, Hermione. It's me, Sirius."

In response, Hermione took two steps forward, pushing Sirius back. She was most satisfied that she could smell the fear on him.

Injuries didn't translate very well through the animagus transformation. A broken finger on a human could end up completely insignificant in the transformed state. An injured wing that prevented a bird animagus from flying might only be a strained shoulder in a human. This didn't mean that transforming through these injuries was painless. Far from it.

Writhing about in the grass, the snake transformed with great effort back into a man. Severus immediately curled in upon himself, clutching his sides. There was a little blood down the back of one hand, but that was the only visible injury. "Need... wand. Ribs... splintered."

Sirius was now a non-issue, and Hermione was human once more, crouching over Severus. "Garry?" she called to the open doorway. "Get my wand and bring it here, will you?"

Shy and slightly withdrawn maybe, but obedient. Garry emerged with Hermione's wand and stood silently at her side.

"Severus? I'm going to bind..." Hermione looked at Garry suddenly. What the hell? She knew her share of simple healing spells, repairing broken bones being one of them. With Garry's special assistance, she could probably make them stronger than ever. "Oh no," she said softly, to herself, before taking Garry's hand and repairing Severus' crushed ribs.

Stronger than ever. Wards strong enough to repel even a dragon, cover a house, and cast by only one person. Simple charms magnified many times their power. What if someone cast an Unforgivable? What if... Someone could almost become invincible with this power under their control.

"You're here," Hermione said coldly, looking back at Sirius, "to talk about Garry?"

Sirius nodded.

"Then we'll talk. Let's go inside." Making sure she wasn't touching Garry, she cast a minor sleeping charm on Severus, then levitated him. Without looking back, she went in the house.

**TBC**

* * *

Previous  
Next 


	13. The Coachwhip's Quest

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Quest

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Safely healed, asleep, and tucked in bed, Hermione left Severus in the bedroom, cocooned in a muffling charm. He certainly would not be doing the Ministry's bidding the next day.

Garry stood in the hall, watching as she worked the spells effortlessly. Basic stuff, part of the repertoire of any witch or wizard worth their salt. The boy was fascinated. "Will I be able to do that?" he asked quietly as Hermione shut the door.

"Do what? Cast those spells?" Still strained from the ordeal, she managed to smile at his nod. "Of course. Those are things you'll learn in school. Very easy stuff for you to do, I'm sure. Now, I want you to wait up here while I talk with our guest downstairs."

She was almost ready to believe he was some sort of idiot-savant because Garry acted like no child she had ever seen or known. He nodded obediently and went to his room without hesitation. How out of line would she be to start to teach him a little magic? Would his ability extend to potions as well?

With a shake of her head, Hermione knew there was a conversation she had to have downstairs.

Sirius was just pouring himself a cup of tea and adding milk when she entered the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home," she said, chastising herself even as she could feel the sneer assert itself.

"Hermione..."

"No, no," she said, as much to herself as to him. "None of that. You came here for something, and since Severus is now asleep, you'll have to talk to me about it. Start talking."

The man had his own brand of charm, and while it didn't sway her, she could certainly identify it. The self-mocking grin, understanding in his eyes, he could make amends for his transgressions very quickly without ever lifting a finger. To most people. "Don't even try it, Sirius. Just talk," Hermione said sternly, her frazzled nerves wearing increasingly thin.

"If that's how it's going to be..." He leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea. "I did come here for a reason, and Snape knew I'd be following him." He set his cup down and looked very earnestly at Hermione.

The sincerity was almost believable.

"If you knew what it looked like from my perspective when I showed up... You were on the floor, looking very dazed, at the bottom of the stairs. The kid was looking like he was about to be killed, and Snape screaming his head off at the both of you. It looked _bad_, Hermione."

"Yes, yes. Now why did you really show up?" Dismissed, but not forgiven.

That was enough for Sirius, who abandoned the earnest sincerity and leaned forward. "I have to ask... are you registered?" At the look of confusion on her face, he added appreciatively, "That was a pretty impressive display of personal transfiguration I saw."

Hermione scowled. "Please, Sirius. I would like to keep an eye on Severus, and I can't do that while I'm talking to you." Too much unspoken denial in that statement; he would know.

"I see." Once again, Sirius leaned back, looking thoughtful, and then all-business. "OK, while the kid is safe here, they think it's still important to keep you updated on the movements of the Death Eaters. They want the kid."

"I can understand why. If Voldemort had that kind of power available to him, he'd probably get his wish. Whatever it takes, however long, I'll keep Garry away from them." Misguided maternal feelings? He _was_ a very nice boy. No, this was something colder, sharper. Duty and fear. Was this how Severus felt every day he went out?

Sirius bit the inside of his lower lip, his eyes narrowed in thought. "They don't know where he went and have no way of finding out. As long as you make sure he stays here behind a meter of wards, there's no problem."

"Is that it?" That was all? There had to be more to this.

"Yep."

Uncomfortable silence descended. Hermione shifted. ""A personal visit just to say that?"

"Snape knows some details. It was meant to complement what he knows. I'm sure you'll pass along what I've said, won't you?" Now nonchalant and back on his way to charming, that rare thoughtful look was gone.

"Of course. What guarantees that they won't find out? We don't have a secret keeper, and there's at least five people at the Ministry that know. Fifty galleons that there are Voldemort sympathizers there. Maybe not marked, but they're there."

A small smile made its way to Sirius' lips, and his eyes squinted merrily. "Glad to see you haven't lost anything, Hermione. The only way they'll find out is if they steal it, and if they do that we'll know. They won't be able to get at you without warning."

"Wonderful. Our safety is firmly in the hands of the Ministry. I suppose I should at least be thankful Fudge is out." Death Eaters in the Ministry... Nothing new there, but who? Who would be the ones to come after Garry. Certainly not in the Espionage department; probably something innocent enough, shuffling papers around. "Any ideas on who?" Her eyes were directed to the ceiling, but her attention was firmly on the names and faces she could think of at the Ministry. 

"Not really. Like you said, not marked, and cowardly. Not willing to do anything on their own. Our advantage, that, but the waiting is terrible."

Hermione nodded, but she wasn't disturbed at all by any wait. It just meant she had more time to piece things through. Certainly she'd be making her own efforts, but waiting, patience... It came in quite handy at times.

The look on her face must have been clear, as Sirius stood. "Since you'll pass that on, I'll just be going then. Sorry about earlier; I was just trying to help."

"Next time, I would prefer that you not attempt to eat my husband in your efforts." That hit the sensitive spot she had been digging for when Sirius winced. Such a homophobe... "I may call on you for a favor later," she said suddenly, not actually sure of what the favor might be, but... "You owe me."

He nodded. "I'll tell Harry you said hello."

A cowardly blow. "Why don't you let Ron know as well." Just so he would know she was a big girl now. "Might as well tell them Severus is doing just fine too. We're very happy." Every word, she knew, was a needle to Sirius. This she had definitely picked up from Severus. "I would have invited them to the wedding, but I knew they wouldn't show up, so didn't bother. I'm sure Remus filled in all the details. As many as he could before they ran from the room, retching." A needle under her own skin, that.

"That's not fair, Hermione."

Must have showed on her face again. Too soft, too much of a girl, still mourning the loss of her friends. "And the way they treated me wasn't fair either. The way you treat Severus isn't fair. At least I'm not trying to hurt them. Hell." She savagely wiped away a stray tear. Anger, definitely of anger.

Sirius opened his mouth, but changed his mind and shut it again. "Thanks for the tea," he mumbled, and left.

Hermione didn't follow.

*******

She wished she had lifted the sleeping charm, which always produced unnaturally still sleep. Severus, when healthy, would normally attempt to broil her at least once in the night by trapping her in the blankets with his arms. In the morning, Hermione realized she hadn't woken once in a sweaty bundle of blankets.

"Severus?" she said gently, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Still under the charm, though slowly coming out of it. His arms had unclenched from his sides, and his legs had straightened out, but his chin was still tucked against his chest. "It's morning. Wake up." 

He groaned a little, and Hermione took it as permission to rouse him fully. "Enervate."

"Next time," he said throatily, his eyes open to bare slits, "just kill me."

"Still hurt?"

With a shake of his head and a groan, Severus sat up. "Just sore from sleeping in a knot."

"I'm sorry I had to use the sleeping charm. I thought it best under the circumstances." Her fingers began to work at his shoulder and neck.

"Perfectly acceptable." His hand touched his side gingerly. "It felt like broken glass under my skin."

Without asking permission, Hermione began to undo the clasps of his wrinkled and whiffy robes. Robe peeled away, then his shirt so that he was bare to the waist. Caring not to try too hard, she tested his ribs. "Any pain? They're not pretty."

"Just sore. Merlin, that _is_ ugly." Discolored, red and purpling patchy flesh, but no straight pain.

"And your hand?" She took it and held it.

"Perfectly fine. Hermione." He withdrew his hand from where she had placed it on her breast. "I don't think this is appropriate." 

"Why not?"

"A certain guest across the hall. He'd probably be traumatized." And Severus himself would be mortified.

Hermione crossed her arms, her mouth in partial amusement and scolding. "Are you a wizard or aren't you?"

"I am, and I could easily string you from the ceiling in a series of silk ropes completely at my mercy. However--wipe that smile off your face--it would be inappropriate at best. You're supposed to be supervising him." He had crossed his arms as well. They sat there, arms crossed, looking at one another.

"I talked to Sirius last night."

"Don't try to change the subject."

"I thought the subject was closed."

"It is."

"I talked to Sirius last night."

Severus sighed and swung his legs out of bed. "What did he say?" 

His movements were uncharacteristically graceless. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'll manage." He hobbled across the rooms, allowing his robes to drop, and retrieved clean clothing. "Well?"

With a sigh and a mumble about stubborn men, Hermione followed to do the same. "He said they didn't know where he was. I don't know how good of an idea it is to sit and wait for them to try and find out though." She shoved his various pairs of underwear to his side of the drawer and got her own out. "I want to know who they are. If they're Death Eaters, then they should be taken care of, not left to run the Ministry."

"A supporter of Willthorpe then," Severus said from the bathroom. 

"I don't... disagree with him. Most of the time. He's making an effort, which is more than Fudge did. I don't think the Ministry's methods of dealing out justice are all that... fair. Wizarding laws in England are almost medieval."

There was the sound of a laugh. "Don't worry, Hermione. I've come to terms with what happened. I know what you mean. And I do agree that Willthorpe is doing a better job than Fudge."

Hermione shivered and began to dress slowly. Maybe he had come to terms with it, but she most likely never would. To think it was that simple, and that it could conceivably happen again!

Something sparked in her at that moment, just like it used to in school. Eyes slowly lighting up, Hermione knew this was an excellent opportunity to do something big. All this time at home, with just Garry, time to just read and do a little research...

After she found out who the security risk in the Ministry was. 

*******

_Ms. Granger, we would like to thank you for looking after our son. As we're sure you are aware, he is a special boy. If you have any problems with his behavior, do not hesitate to alert us; we are used to dealing with his peculiarities._

Hermione blinked. Problems with Garry's behavior? The only problem she had was that Garry didn't seem to have _any_ behavior. It was almost like he was under the... No, that couldn't be it. For what purpose?

She scanned over the rest, which was polite chit-chat, and composed a hasty letter of thanks. After that was done, she wrote a shorter letter, just a question really, to an old acquaintance, and sent Lorenz off with it first. Depending on the answer she received, she might be looking for something else at the Ministry.

She missed Severus.

Currently engaged in the maze of Ministry paperwork, Severus was hurriedly scribbling away on what felt like the millionth piece of parchment that morning. The others were used to his to his manner of paperwork, head bent over stacks, quill moving as almost a blur, unwilling to break for tea even until he determined it was an acceptable time to stop. Of course, they were used to all the quirks and work habits of each other. In this spy business, there was no such thing as a new guy.

These austere walls, windows with sunlight pouring in, wide open space... He hated it, the same way he had hated the tiny confines of his cell in Azkaban. Hell if he would ever give them a reason to send him back. And if they did... he was not above running when the situation warranted it, and it was a very large world outside of England.

The quill in his hand bent under the force of his grip, and he gave it a disgusted look before tossing it aside. Start a life somewhere he was unfamiliar with, in a new community, could he do it? Wizarding law was night and day when it came to different countries, and while he had tested England's and the Ministry's to the limits and beyond, that was over with now.

Settling into some sort of normalcy wasn't unappealing, even if it was in some South American jungle or... His eyes stared blankly at the parchment in front of him which still awaited his signature. This had been the first time he had ever given a second thought to his grandmother's suggestion that they move to Russia.

_You'd never stand for the States, Severus, though I think it's a better place for you. They're so tolerant as to almost be stupid. A new life, a new way of life, but no. If you ever need it, I could go back, back to Russia. Your safety is so much more important to me._

Russia would not be far enough away. No place on Earth would be far enough away from the Ministry for his comfort.

He stood suddenly. Not one of the other three men working at their desks looked at him. This was an issue he had help onto for too long. Hermione needed to know, just to be aware that there were options. 

They were not forced to live under the heel of the Ministry.

*******

At one point in time, she had belonged in these halls, and she used this confidence to appear as the queen of the building. No one would question her as long as she looked like she knew just what she was doing and had every right to do it. As far as she was concerned, she did.

Of course she had chosen her most comfortable shoes even though they were not the kind the Ministry allowed for employees. Screw the dress code. This was life and death, something that the Ministry seemed to be disturbingly unconcerned with--though they had gotten under Willthorpe--and Hermione wasn't going to be caught in a duel in a pair of toe-pinching shoes.

People had their suspicions as to which of their co-workers might not be what they seemed. Brief, hushed conversations took place over lunch with eyes darting about. Hermione had talked with a few of those she felt she could trust above any others.

While nothing was actually said about the presence of Death Eaters amongst them, there were names that were repeated as odd, or strange, or creepy. Two names, and silently she agreed with the assessments of the men.

So she had her suspects, but there was very little to do until they made the effort. She could, however, set up a bit of a warning for when they did. Because they would, eventually. The Death Eaters were good at biding their time, waiting until the opportunity arrived, and opportunities arrived with alarming frequency.

This was one time she would not be caught unaware, letting fortune grant those criminals its blessing. The Ministry kept their files in the same manner Ollivander sorted his wands. Files on all the Ministry employees were sorted by their department, _in_ their department. She knew where to find her file, but Severus' would be more difficult. Of course, it might be enough for his to be tucked away safely in Espionage. That was an area that only those that went there knew the location of, and...

_Imperius. Think outside the box, Granger,_ she told herself. Just because she didn't know, and her two suspects didn't know didn't mean they couldn't use someone who did. Feet carrying her automatically through the building, she decided this was just something she would have to tell Severus about. Not the whole thing, of course, but just suggest that he seal or mask his records. Just in case.

He would shake his head, maybe laugh or even scowl at her foolish worrying, and then go and do it. So that was covered, but her biggest concern was Garry's information. Where would that have been put? Another rash action was called for, perhaps. Oh, yes, they had given her information on Garry's strange ability, and that had been surprisingly complete, but there was a file someplace in this maze of bureaucracy that held every drop of information on the boy's life, including his current whereabouts.

"Hermione! It seems like it's been an age!"

"Hi, Susan. It feels like it's been that long. I don't miss it though." They embraced briefly, and Hermione was pleased that Susan was the one she had encountered. She was a trustworthy person, one that could be counted on for help if she was desperate for it. "I need to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Sure. What's this all about? Why haven't you been in? We just got a notice that you were on extended leave, Ministry business. Philip's been depressed." They started moving down the hall toward the small offices that housed their paperwork.

"Yes, that's exactly what it is, but I can't really talk about it." She put her hand on Susan's arm. "I can't talk about it."

Susan nodded. "Of course. Do you mind? I need to stop in and wash my hands." Instead of the offices, she went into the women's toilet. 

Once inside, she locked and charmed the door, added her own silencing spell on top of the muffling charm already there, and did her own scan. The room was now silent and clean. They could speak in private. "What's going on?"

"You know how the house was technically designated safe, though never used for that?" Hermione said, taking a seat on the padded bench on the wall opposite the huge mirror.

"Yes. Not on the floo network, and unplottable."

"I think Severus has a secret keeper as well, but I've never asked. But they finally decided to call us on that. We're watching someone that Voldemort is after."

Susan paled at the mention of Voldemort's name, but nodded firmly. "So you have to keep an eye on this person, do you?"

"Yes. But I think we all know there is at least one person in the Ministry that's working for Voldemort. I'm about to put some extra security on my own files just in case; I'll ask Severus to do the same for his. I need to find the files of the person staying with us and do it to those as well.

"If Voldemort finds him, then he finds us as well. I've been hiding from him for over a year, and Severus has been under threat for over half his life. We're all in danger."

"What can I do?" Susan asked, still pale, the freckles across her nose standing out, but determined.

"I'm not really sure. I have ideas on who it might be, but can you think of anyone that's suspicious?" It felt good just to unload the information on someone who would give support without ulterior motives.

There was a moment while Susan considered the people around her at the Ministry. "Well, there's always been something about Tom Pierce that's bothered me. Something about his eyes... flat, just not right. I've seen him look at people, and it's not normal."

Similar to what the others had said about the man. Flat expression, unemotional, looked at other people as if they were animals for slaughter... He was definitely her first suspect. "Anyone else?"

Susan looked at her, directly into her eyes, and said, "Other people noticed it too, haven't they?"

Hermione nodded.

"And I just thought I was being paranoid all this time. Being around Philip so much has made me wary, and..." She unsuccessfully suppressed a shudder. "A Death Eater..."

"Anyone else, Susan?"

"Oh, I... I'm not sure." Her brow furrowed as she thought. "Not really. I just..." She shrugged apologetically.

Of course, she wouldn't be able to see it when she was so close. Hermione never had either. This just made it that much more important to mask the files. "That's OK. Thanks. But do you know of who to ask or maybe even where I could find the full file of someone they've sent into hiding? They'd never let me look at it if I asked for it." 

"Maybe... Unspeakables. I'm not sure. I think you know more important people in the Ministry than I do, Hermione."

Unfortunately, that wasn't a good thing. "That's probably true." Hermione tapped her leg and bit her lower lip. "Thanks anyway, Susan. I've been so desperate to talk to someone about this. Severus just starts lecturing on the importance of duty and how much he hates having someone intrude on his little universe and how inappropriate it is to act like a married couple... Oh, sorry."

Susan was still blushing. "Any time you want to talk, just owl me, or stop over. It's not the same without you here."

Hermione smiled and hugged her. "That really does mean a lot. Thanks. And I think you've been washing your hands long enough; we should go."

*******

Lorenz had returned from his previous deliveries without a reply, to Hermione's disappointment. No telling how long, or even if, she'd get a reply. But she had a new task for the owl, and he sat on the edge of the desk as the quill waited to take dictation. Hermione stared out the window, eyes unfocused. "Dear Harry," she began.

*******

Severus returned that evening at his usual time, and the three had a quiet dinner, while Crookshanks and Kitsune waited for something to be dropped their way. Very rarely did they receive any sort of table scraps, but there was never any problem with waiting for the rare treat.

Hermione took Garry up to bed when the meal was finished, then returned to the kitchen. "I have to ask you this," she said immediately, and slid into the chair across the table from Severus. "Your files, your records, you need to mask them, put extra security, something. I got a rather considerable lead on who might be the Death Eaters in the Ministry."

"And what sort of foolishness do you plan on doing next?" he asked, his eyebrow arched.

Predictable, but in a way she found endearing. "I'll let you know when I know."

"You had better. I won't have you throwing yourself into a dangerous situation all alone. I know how you need adult supervision. Be careful."

The gentle quality of his voice, so different from what she was used to, made her smile. "I will be." She stood and took his hand. "I think I need adult supervision now. No excuses."

The next morning Hermione was awakened by the soft hooting of Lorenz, perched on the lamp at her bedside. She was awake almost immediately when she saw the message fixed to his leg. "From Harry?" 

An answering hoot in return, and the owl ducked its body to accept a quick caress.

"You're a life saver, Lorenz," Hermione said gratefully as she removed the small scroll from his leg. "You go and relax; I know it's been a long night for you."

_Hermione, it's good to hear from you, even if it is business. I suppose you did the right thing in asking me; I know how it is there. I'm not sure if I'll be able to manage it all, but I'll do what I can._

_I'm sorry you felt you couldn't invite me to your wedding, and I'm sorry I made you feel you couldn't. I think Ron is too, and I'm not just saying that. I really think he's sorry this all happened. I know I'd like it if you could forgive me, because I never really meant anything I said, not about you or Snape. It was just a gut reaction about a man I've never known and hadn't even seen for ten years. Remus told us about the wedding and said it was very nice and that you looked happy. I only wish there had at least been pictures._

_I'd like to talk to you again to catch up, and maybe even visit. It's been a long time, and seems even longer._

_Your friend, Harry_

"A message from your erstwhile friend, I see," Severus said from over her shoulder. "Realizes the error of his ways finally? And it only took him a year. Frankly, I'm surprised."

"Severus, hush, I'm basking in his groveling." Teeth grazed the back of her neck delicately, and she arched backwards against him. "Been doing your homework, I see. You only had to ask."

He did it again, pressing himself against her and placing his hand possessively on her stomach. "Some people respond to their animagus form even when they're not in it." His teeth pinched the skin of her neck and of that behind her ears, earning a hiss.

"You don't own me," she said suddenly, the hard edge of rebellion audible. "I'm not--"

Pausing in his attentions, Severus smiled against her skin. "No, you're not, but don't deny that you're responding to it."

"It's unfair. How can I do this to a snake?" she whined.

"I'm surprised you haven't done _your_ homework." His tongue marked a wide path from the left side of her neck to her right ear. 

Hermione chuckled even as her entire body quivered. "I already know what to do with a trouser snake. That's not what I meant."

Both his hands grabbed hold of her, and he rolled over, taking her with him, moving until he had her pinned beneath him. "And so do I." 

Lorenz had the good sense to retreat from the scene.

Once they were both finally up and around, they found Garry sitting at the kitchen table, staring what was best described as forlornly at the slightly pocked wood in front of him. He was still dressed in his pajamas, and had Crookshanks on his lap. He was vigorously sucking on one thumb, which he made no effort to stop when they entered.

"Garry?" Hermione said gently. "Is there anything wrong?" It had all the appearance of a case of trauma. "Tell me what happened."

He shook his head.

Watching him, with his wide, vague eyes, Hermione could guess what that answer she was waiting for would be. She went to him, and kneeled by the chair. "Garry? There's nothing wrong. No one is hurt, no one is in trouble. You didn't do anything bad. Crookshanks knows you've been good, right, Crook?"

The cat lifted his head and looked at her with something that could have been called a smile from the proper angle.

The sucking of the thumb slowed, and Garry turned his gaze to Hermione. "I'm not in trouble? I... heard noises."

Hermione winced and knew the look Severus must have been giving her at the moment. "No. That was just... uh... Lorenz delivering a letter. He was really noisy, knocked some things over in the bedroom. Sometimes owls can get careless."

"They were scary noises." His voice was so small, so timid.

The blush made its way unbidden to Hermione's cheeks. "I know they were. Next time, we'll make sure Lorenz is more careful. You won't hear any of those noises again. OK?"

"Here." A bowl of steaming porridge was placed on the table with a clunk. "This will help."

Garry looked at Severus fearfully, but did begin to eat. As he finished the bowl, he appeared more relaxed and more alert.

That was the major relief for Hermione; that blank stare had been the most frightening thing, resembling the eyes of some of the unluckiest patients of St. Mungo's. Wit sharpening probably, and anti-anxiety potions. The best brewer could blend their potions with anything and make them indistinguishable. She stood next to Severus and whispered, "You were right. Hold it over me later."

He nodded.

Later, when routine had returned, Hermione got her answer.

_Miss Granger,_

"She'll never call you anything different, you realize," Severus commented dryly.

"I know."

_No, Garry Fudge is not in the book of names. Strange that you asked, but stranger to see this. The Fudge line has a long history of attending Hogwarts, so this is a very out of place. Whatever your concerns, please be aware I am not at liberty to do anything about this._

_Sincerely, M. McGonagall_

A hastily scribbled reply went with the Hogwarts owl waiting there, and then Hermione just had to wait for Harry. Hopefully he would pull through for her.

*******

Two days later, there was a knock at the door, and when Hermione opened it, she was speechless. On her doorstep, in his full Unspeakable uniform of silver robes with blue and red trim, was Harry.

"Hi, Hermione," he said, smiling shyly.

"Harry... I never expected you!" She spied the folder under his arm and stepped aside. "Come in! I just thought you'd--"

"Owl it. I figured, which is why I came over myself. Wanted to surprise you. Did it work?"

"Yes!" She threw caution to the wind and took him in a one-armed hug. "It's so nice to see you again, Harry. I wasn't sure..."

"I wouldn't abandon you, Hermione," he said softly, returning the hug. "I might run away because I'm immature, but I wouldn't abandon you." When they broke apart, they were both grinning. "So I got what you wanted," he said, holding up the folder.

"All of it?" Surprise and hope. She should have known she could count on Harry.

"All of it. I put the wards on the files, but didn't mask them. You'll know when someone looks at them. And this is a complete copy." He handed it over.

It was thick, much thicker than her own file, and she was very eager to look it over as soon as possible. "Have you looked at this? Do you know why...?"

Harry was still smiling, small and serene, as if he had nothing more on his mind than an afternoon picnic. "I've heard rumors. They're like roaches: they never go away and multiply like crazy. Something about a new spell, a new weapon, a human time bomb, and a hundred other things. I take it you know the truth."

"Yes. Yes, and I don't like this situation, why they put him here. There's something wrong, Harry. You don't know how desperately I want to get away from the Ministry, but Severus is trapped." She looked at him, a silent plea in her eyes, though not even the Boy Who Lived could help. "They'll never let him leave now; he'll always be--"

"Not always, Hermione. There's always a way. It just depends on how much he wants to get away." He took her hand, his green eyes filled with understanding. "How about some tea? We can talk more easily sitting down."

"Harry, we--"

"Let's sit, then talk. It's not as bad as you might think. You're just getting a little carried away by emotion."

If there was one way to insult Hermione, it was that: to accuse her of being overly emotional raised her ire in a way no amount of insults could. "I am _not_ emotional!"

"Of course not. But I think I have the benefit of seeing the larger picture of your situation."

She wanted to slap the smile right off his face, but again, the larger picture... "All right. Tea, and then we talk."

She made tea, and they drank it silently. It was hard curbing her curiosity over what he had to say, and similarly difficult to not talk about Garry's secret. "So," she said as soon as Harry's cup was empty.

"Right. You have your options, and Severus knows them, but, and this is only what I believe, he doesn't want to take away _your_ options." Harry poured himself another cup of tea.

"My options? I don't see it. How would he infringe on my options by getting away from the Ministry?"

"Because it's exactly that, Hermione. There are lots of places you can go to get away from the Ministry. They don't have jurisdiction over the entire world. You just... leave." He poured some milk into his cup. "Tell me, if you're not happy at the Ministry, what do you want to do?"

Away? Leave their house, leave... "I want to teach, at Hogwarts," she answered in a whisper.

"And there we have our answer."

"It's all because of me? That's not right. He knows how I feel. He would never..." Oh no, he would. Because he knew exactly how she felt. Hermione moaned and put her head in her hands. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is the second time it's all been right in front of my face and I haven't seen it. I really do need to get away from here." 

Harry chuckled at that. "Don't worry, Hermione. You're still the smartest witch I know, and one of the smartest people. You'll work it all out, I'm sure. Now, about this file..."

"You can't even imagine how bad it would be if Voldemort ever got what he wanted out of this, Harry. It's just... And Garry, that's his name, doesn't seem to be aware of anything that's going on. He can't do any magic himself because he's only 10 and I'm not sure he'll _ever_ do magic according to what Minerva told me but he's so powerful. You just can't believe it unless you see it."

"Slow down, Hermione. You're on one of your rolls again. Go a bit slower; pretend I'm Ron."

That got a guilty laugh out of Hermione, and she nodded. "Minerva said he's not in the book of names, no invitation from Hogwarts. I know it's not strange that he wouldn't have a wand yet, but he seems impressed by even the simplest of spells. He doesn't even have a familiar. He's not a normal boy, even if he didn't have the potential to be the savior or downfall of the world."

"OK, now you're just babbling. How could he be that?"

Hermione took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. "You know those wards on the house?"

"Yeah. Strong ones, double layered. Must have taken at least eight people to manage."

"The first ones did, yes. The Ministry sent over four of its best to make them. The second set... I did all by myself."

With a snort, Harry shook his head. "Not possible."

"Very possible. That's why they're hiding Garry. He can't do it himself, but touching him gave my magic a boost. A big boost. I did wandless magic without any effort at all, and those wards... I might as well have just put a shrinking charm on a cardboard box. If Voldemort had that kind of power, he could probably put a dozen people under the Imperius curse at once."

"Or kill them just as easily." Harry was frowning now, bordering on a snarl. "You're right, that is bad." He stood, his tea long forgotten, and said, "Thanks, Hermione. I know there's not much we can do, but I'll tell the others. Forewarned is... better than not. Oh, and here. This will buzz and light up when the file is opened." He handed over a small crystal cube that fit into the palm of her hand. "Be careful, Hermione. Be very careful."

"I will, Harry." She hugged him, and then he was gone.

It was perhaps fifteen minutes later that Hermione was found in the library, still reading through the file, by Garry. He rubbed his eyes to clear them of the sleep. Faithfully, as they had been from the day Hermione had asked them to do so, Crookshanks and Kitsune were at his feet. "You're back."

Hermione looked up, and her perspective on the boy was now completely different. "I am," she said softly, and smiled. "How was your nap?"

"Fine."

"No scary dreams?"

He shook his head.

"Good. Ready for a snack?" It all made so much more sense now, his behavior. Not a squib, but he would always live like one, never owning a wand, never learning any spells, not even attending school. Garry would remain six years old for the rest of his life. "I think there might even be some wine gums in the cupboard..."

"Are there?"

Hermione stood and held out her hand. "Let's go find out." When he took hold of it, they went to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the cube that was sitting on the table, next to the folder, began to blink and buzz.

**TBC**

* * *

Previous  
Next


	14. The Coachwhip's Ascension

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Coachwhip's Ascension

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Hermione moaned as the waking reality of pain washed over her. She was not yet able to open her eyes. 

"That was too easy." 

"That's why we bided our time. If we had done something stupid, they would have known about us." 

"Shouldn't we take them to the Dark Lord now? Keeping them here is just asking for aurors to stop in." 

It was a small comfort to know that she had been right with her suspicions. Tom Pierce, cunning and malevolent, and Philip... Friendly, flirtatious, never raised his voice, never got upset. How could he be a Death Eater? 

"Get some fucking backbone. We have the kid. Voldemort wants him for something big, and _we have him_. We have the power over him now. Why should we give him to Voldemort?" 

There was the sound of a hand meeting flesh, and Philip mewling. "Why'd you do that?" 

"Because if you're going to be a crying baby, then I'll take care of you right here. I don't need you." 

Finally Hermione forced her eyelids open, and wished she hadn't. The ropes were tight enough for her to know she had been securely tied to the chair, but the sight before her... With a sudden violent lurch, she vomited, barely missing her lap. 

"Awake, finally. Good. First," Pierce said, kneeling next to the chair, "I have to know what you thought of the spell Voldemort taught his loyal supporters. Better than your average stun." 

If she hadn't been the victim of it, Hermione might have been willing to give credit because she felt like her brain was wrapped in wet cotton. Not only was her thinking fuzzy and slow, but the next obvious step to escape by turning into a tiger felt like a far off dream. The transformation, which she had grown very good at, wouldn't come to her. 

"Be careful; she's dangerous," Philip said, concern in his voice. 

Hermione looked at him and winced. His focus was on her, because behind him slumped in a chair was a very battered and unconscious Severus. 

"I told you, she's harmless now. Keep your eye on him. He's got no wand, but I don't want him pulling anything. I want to be able to see each detail when I turn her inside out," Pierce said, and smiled to show very white and even teeth. 

At the expression, Hermione's stomach heaved, and she coughed up a mouthful of brownish stomach acid. Only one thought could penetrate the thick confusion of her mind: we're going to die. Tortured and killed, slowly with lots of pain, and no one would know. They'd just rot away and no one would ever know. She didn't want to die. She just wanted to be back at home, back in bed where it was warm and safe, and not anywhere near these men. 

"...harmless anyway. You know it as well as I do; you read the file," Pierce was saying, but not to Hermione. He and Philip were both looking at the limp form of Severus, tied loosely to his chair. "It'll be amusing to watch." 

Philip tried to grin, but it was just a sickly twitching of his lips. "I... really think--" 

Pierce hit him again, an open-handed slap that left a red print of his hand. "I don't care what you think. I don't really need you if you want to run back to Voldemort," he hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have his secret weapon now, and I'll use it. _Watch Snape_." 

Hand held to his cheek, near tears, Philip stood back behind the chair their other prisoner was in, and tried not to look at much of anything. 

"Now--" 

"You... won't get anything out of me," Hermione wheezed, held upright only by the ropes that restrained her. "I don't know where Harry Potter is." 

"Fuck Harry Potter!" Pierce snapped, but then suddenly smiled benignly at her. "You don't even know what I want. Besides, I'm rather sure I'll get everything I want out of you. _Crucio_." 

Hermione had just enough time to register pain firing through every fiber of her body, enough time to stiffen in the chair, enough time to open her mouth to scream, before it ended. 

"You see? Whatever you thought I wanted from you, you were wrong." 

After that, Hermione's mind did all it could to protect itself, separate itself from the physical. Breathing exercises were futile as her screams ripped all the breath from her lungs anyway, and she just didn't have the proper training for much of anything else. Mostly she just babbled about escaping, or dying, sleeping, doing anything other than being trapped in that chair and having every pain curse used on her. 

"What-what about the kid?" Philip asked, wincing with every noise Hermione made. 

"What about him? He's not going anywhere," Pierce replied, breathing heavily. There was sweat trickling down his face, and his hair was plastered to the back of his neck. "He can't do magic and is dumb as a rock. Don't worry about that." Then he turned his attention completely back to Hermione, eyes alight with malice. 

The sound of screaming rang in Severus' ears, and his initial belief was that this was another of his nightmares about Azkaban. When he managed to get his eyes open, he saw that it was worse than he could have ever imagined. Much worse. 

Hermione was across the room, tied to a chair, and looking near death. Her face was pale, more pale than he had even seen his own, her eyes dull and glazed over with pain, and her hung in sweaty strands as she gasped for air. She didn't meet his gaze. 

Escape. He had to escape. That was the only thing he could think of. His wand was gone, he knew that much, and he wouldn't be able to fight in his condition. Standing wasn't even a sure thing. There was only one way to do it. 

"Go ahead. Do it. You won't get away; the room is sealed. Turn into a harmless little snake. You can't help her or yourself," Philip said, his fingers nervously running over the smooth wood of his wand. His eyes kept darting between the sluggishly moving Snape and Pierce. "You'll get your turn soon enough." 

They knew. They knew he was utterly powerless, and worse, Hermione knew. That was why she wouldn't look at him. There was no way he could help her. 

"_Crucio!_" 

Severus jerked at the curse and Hermione's screams. It would easy enough to slip out of the loose ropes, but for what? What could he do? But how could he do nothing while she was suffering? Something. Anything. 

The pain ended, and to her chagrin, Hermione was still conscious. Spittle ran from her lower lip, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The pain, it just ripped everything from her, even something as insignificant as spit. Her body felt unpleasantly rubbery, and she was sure part of it was due to the multiple bonebreaker curses that had been used, but she could lift her head. 

And wanted to look away immediately. Severus was watching her, and she was sure her own pain was mirrored on his face. The helplessness... _Help me. Do anything,_ she pleaded silently, only able to express the sentiment with her own eyes. _Even if it's just death._

At first she believed it was just a hallucination brought on by the pain. She was intimately familiar with his transformation, where pale skin became black scales first, where and how man became serpent. This was different, not what she had witnessed before, but her thoughts wouldn't collect themselves to lend to understanding. 

She watched him rear back, lift his body over a meter off the floor. Philip screamed, a ridiculously girlish noise, and then Severus struck. 

"What are you screami--holy hell!" Pierce whipped around, his wand pointed and ready for use, but the distance between him and the chair had only less than two meters, and Severus was much larger than that. First the hand, which spasmed as fangs sunk into it, and the wand went rolling across the floor. 

The robes proved to be little defense as Severus struck once again at the calf of the man. Pierce, in agony, dropped to the floor attempting to clutch his hand and his leg simultaneously, and left himself open for the final strike. 

His howl came out as a bare gurgle as his neck was pierced, and the venom rushing through him started to take effect. In moments, he was limp, unmoving. Philip was thrashing weakly, having only been bitten once, but he was growing more still. 

Severus' hood closed, and with an ophidian limp, crossed the remaining distance to Hermione. He changed at her feet, and began to untie her with partially numb fingers. Finally free of them, she fell out of the chair and into his arms. "Hermione, can you hear me?" 

Slowly her eyes opened. "I can hear you." 

Though dull, they weren't empty. She was still in her right mind, and he clutched her to him as tightly as he thought was safe for her. He didn't weep, didn't speak, did nothing outside of simply holding her. 

"Garry," she said quietly from against his chest. "Wandless magic, with him..." 

He held her for another minute, just to assure that she wasn't in trouble, her breathing steady, heart strong, skin warm, then laid her out on the floo. "Relax, close your eyes." He stripped off his robe and folded it, then placed it under her head. "I'll summon help." 

"I'll wait right here," she mumbled, somehow managing a small smile. 

Severus stood, ignoring the pain that ran through his bones, and looked about the room. Nothing of any use and two doors. Through the first door was some sort of tiny living room with a couch and an empty fireplace. Huddled in the corner, against cold stone, was the boy. "Mr. Fudge, are you hurt?" 

A whimpering sound emanated from his form, but he didn't move at all. "I need your help. I need to get a fire started, to get help." Still no response. "Mr. Fudge!" 

The boy jumped, and turned his frightened eyes on Severus. 

"We need help; I need to start a fire. I can only do that if you assist me." He nodded as the boy stood and walked, somewhat mechanically, over to him. "Good. You're safe now; those men are dead." 

Swallowing thickly, and hoping for a little luck, Severus put his hand on the boy's shoulder, then pointed his wand hand at the fireplace. It was no lie about the child; the power, even without holding a wand, was almost a physical manifestation. "_Incendio_," he muttered, and jumped back when a jet of flame shot from the tips of his fingers and hit the back of the fireplace, sending fire curling out and up the walls. 

Severus stared, then removed his hand from Garry. "Can you keep a promise?" 

"Yes." 

"Then promise that you will never go with a stranger unless your parents say it's acceptable, and you will never become a Death Eater or join with Voldemort. Promise me that; it's terribly important." 

Before the thumb made it into his mouth, Garry said, "I promise. Who's Voldymart?" 

Severus chuckled, unable to help it at the mangling of Voldemort's name. "A very evil man, one you want nothing to do with. Now, I only hope they left some floo powder about." Floo powder was a staple of any wizarding business or residence, even if it wasn't regularly used. It was far too useful in case of an emergency, or--"Aha!" 

An ornamental sphere that decorated the mantel--gaudily in Severus' opinion--opened to reveal a modest amount of the powder. It took only a pinch in the fire to turn the flames green. "Sirius Black," Severus said. 

*******

"Dead." The auror ran his wand over one body, then the next. "Massive quantity of venom in both, almost definitely the cause of death." He stood and looked at the others gathered. 

Harry was the first to speak. "I don't think there's any reason to keep them here. Their statements can be taken later." 

The others agreed, though Harry noticed some reluctance on the part of the scene officer. Not that it mattered, Unspeakable was high man on the totem pole here, especially with Death Eaters involved. 

"I'll go talk to them." He started to walk to the next room. 

"I'll need a report from you too, Potter," the auror said loudly, attempting to demonstrate his importance to everyone else within earshot. 

But Harry's answer undermined the effort with its casual air. "You'll get it." In the next room, Hermione and Severus were both receiving medical treatment, though neither were actually physically hurt that badly. One of the most important things, which Hermione was being quizzed on currently, was the hex that had been used on her, nulling her magic. 

"I don't know," she said, fatigue plain on her face and in her voice. "I didn't hear them at all. We were in the kitchen, and then Garry made a noise, I turned around and there they were. I have no idea how they made it past the wards; they were double-strength at least." 

Garry... There would be getting no statement from him; the boy hadn't really understood what was going on, and he hadn't been in the room when the deaths had happened. His parents had already retrieved him as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

At least there were other Unspeakables there to take the statements, and the situation wasn't left in the hands of biased and unsympathetic aurors. "What about you, Severus? I have a hard time believing they caught you by surprise," he said with a wry grin. 

"Believe it, Potter. Sometimes I manage to fool myself into believing I'm a normal wizard and don't have Death Eater hit squads after me. I picked an unfortunate moment to let the confines of the Ministry lull me." He didn't smile, but there was the barest hint of amusement in his voice. 

Harry crouched next to the chair Severus was slouched in, and looked very serious to match his voice. "What happened to you being totally harmless?" he asked quietly. 

"I've never been totally harmless; you should know that." 

"Help me out here, Severus. Give me something now, and we can let you go home to finish this up. Trust me, for once, that I would like nothing more than to get you two out of here." 

They looked at one another for a moment, before Severus turned his gaze on Hermione. Her eyes were closed, and she was speaking quietly to one of Harry's co-workers. "I don't know what happened exactly," Severus began, careful not to be heard by anyone other than Harry. "They were... torturing her, and I had to do something. I didn't have my wand, but..." His lip curled in something between a frown and a snarl; his lip was quivering. "Anything was better than sitting in that chair and watching. 

"It felt so strange, not like the first time, but different." Lips returning to a straight line again, Severus looked at Harry with all seriousness. "I changed, and I knew right away what to do. It's the most liberating part of being an animagus, Potter. I can consider my options," he said and tapped his head, "and allow my instincts to make the decision. My decision in this case was to act with extreme prejudice. Strike in defense of another life." 

"But that doesn't explain how you changed your animagus form." 

"I don't know. I was only taught the practical applications of the ability, not the theory behind it." 

With a sigh, Harry stood. "I think that's enough for now. We'll get the rest of your statements later today. Is that all right?" 

"Of course. Potter... I won't go back, will I?" 

Harry stared at him blankly, which Severus read incorrectly. 

"I won't hesitate to run if that's what it's going to be. I've done everything they've wanted without question. It's been 30 years; I want to have a life again." 

It suddenly hit Harry, with the desperation in his eyes, what he was referring to. "No," he said quietly. "No, you won't go back. I'll make sure of it." Maybe, though he would never admit and damage the man's pride, that Harry could some day repay him for his service by removing that file. "Gentlemen," he said loudly, getting everyone's attention in the room, "we can get statements later. I think it's pretty clear what happened here." 

He pretended not to hear Severus' sigh of relief. 

A portkey was hastily prepared for the couple, as they were in no condition to be apparating anywhere. 

"How about I follow along, and when you're ready, I can let the others know?" Harry suggested. Just to make it sound innocent really. He was worried, and the two weren't in any shape to be fighting off more over-excited Death Eaters. "I can check over the wards while I'm there." 

The other Unspeakables, naturally, had no problem with the plan. The aurors looked sullen once again to have the decisions removed from their hands, and Hermione looked grateful. Severus just looked dead tired. 

Harry took the portkey out of convenience, and immediately had his wand out. 

"How long do we have, Potter?" Severus asked as he supported Hermione. 

"How long do you need?" 

"You said the afternoon..." 

"Perfectly fine. Three? Four?" 

Severus didn't answer, just looked at Hermione as she leaned against him, clutching his robes. "Four, I think," he answered quietly. "Make yourself at home; we'll be upstairs." He lifted Hermione into his arms and carried her up the stairs. 

"Four it is," Harry said quietly and watched them go. 

To pass the time, he checked the wards that guarded the house, and strengthened them where needed, that it was in damn few places. It was still unplottable, the anti-apparation field was still in place, and the place should have been secure. With the two Death Eaters dead, it might be impossible to discover how they had pierced the defenses here. 

The cube had been meant only as an early warning device, to know when Garry Fudge's file was accessed, so why hadn't Hermione reacted? He knew it had worked, as it was a device of his own making. So what had gone wrong here? 

At precisely four, Severus and Hermione came down the stairs with their feline escort. While Kitsune was happily cuddled in Hermione's arms, the two men would not stoop to such a level. Not when there was company about. 

And there was definitely company. Harry was there, as well as three of his co-workers, Sirius, and even... 

"Ron!" 

Hermione charged down the remaining stairs, nearly trampling everyone in her path, and gave Ron a fierce, one-armed hug. She hadn't expected his reaction, so her hold tightened when his arms hugged her back more gently. 

"Hi, Hermione. How are you?" 

"I'm fine now, Ron. Did you hear about what happened?" She pulled back to look at him, noting at the back of her mind that the others had retreated into the sitting room, and were talking quietly. 

Ron, not the boy or even young man she remembered, nodded, his eyes more serious than she could ever remember them being. "Harry told me. Everything." He looked away for a moment, his mouth curving into a familiar half-frown/grimace. "I'm sorry for being so terrible to you." 

"You weren't--" 

"I _was_! Don't defend me, Hermione. I'm an adult now; I should be able to act like one." He looked straight into her eyes, his hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly. "I'm glad you're OK. I'm sorry for how I treated you. It wasn't right of me, not to act like that to a friend." 

Unable to contain her smile or the happy tears, Hermione gestured to the library. "I think they'll be a bit; let's do some catching up." 

The corners of Ron's mouth lifted. "Sure." 

In the sitting room, Harry looked at the others, and nodded to himself. "I think you were very intentionally set up. I think they used you all as bait." 

Severus didn't move. "What?" 

"I think they put three likely targets together to draw the Death Eaters in the Ministry out. It doesn't make sense otherwise." Harry looked to his companions, who were all gravely stern, but not with disbelief. 

He wasn't done yet though. "Those wards? It's lucky Hermione reinforced them or they would have been there the next day. Someone--" 

"Sabotage," Sirius said quietly, scowling. 

Harry nodded. "Severus, I talked to Hermione the other day. I know it'll be difficult for her to accept, but what you said... I think you need to do it." 

Nobody else moved. 

"Run? Just like that?" Now when someone suggested it be done, it didn't sound like such a good idea. 

"Snape, we're not friends," Sirius said with more weight than Severus had ever heard him use before, "but... I know what's right and what isn't. Just like I told Remus, I'm telling you: leave the country. Get away from the Ministry any way you can. Hermione doesn't deserve to live like this." 

"If you can keep helping us out," said Harry, "wherever you end up, we'd appreciate it, but I'm not going to ask you to do it. A lot of you has been asked already. Too much." 

Severus swallowed, and his mouth tasted sour. "Where would we go? Gringott's--" 

"A loan, if you like. Until it can be withdrawn from your account. Enough to get you started someplace else. The mainland, Asia, South America, the States..." Harry was getting dangerously close to begging. "Remus has managed, and it's hard for all of us, it's also easier to know he's happy and safe. Please, for Hermione's sake if not your own, consider it." 

"I will." Not right away, but he would. There would be times, he was sure, in the future it would be nearly impossible for him not to run. 

Harry smiled, barely. "That's all we can ask then. I suppose we need your statement now. 

The revelation of details was something he didn't even need to think about to do. Words flowed easily form his lips as he thought about what had happened. They wouldn't apply logic to his statement, wouldn't truly figure things out, so he had to. 

Hermione's file, probably had been the basis of it all. Then the boy's. His own had probably not been touched; his status as an animagus was not a secret kept there. No, that fact was kept totally unhidden, a matter of public record. What an idiotic thing, expecting him to remain effective when anyone could just look up his secrets. 

"I think that's about it," Harry said suddenly, and stood. "It'll take just a moment to get Hermione's and then we can go." 

"Very well," Severus answered in his most measured tone. Would he ever feel truly safe in this house again? Crookshanks chose that moment to hop first onto the couch, then climb on his lap, purring furiously. "There was nothing you could have done, old man," he said quietly, and stroked the orange fur, not bothering to hide the fondness in his eyes. 

Hermione's statement was even shorter than Severus'. With a pinched expression on her face, she ran through the list of curses that had been used on her as best she could remember. She detailed how the magic-dulling hex had felt, and gave a bare nod to Sirius when he raised his eyebrows as a silent question. Sirius would no doubt relay the information later to Harry and not bring up the details. 

"I knew better than to say this to Severus, Hermione," Harry said as his questioning ended, "but if you ever need anything, just ask. Or if you just want to talk. In fact, I expect to see your owl at my window now and again." 

"I will, Harry." 

"Me too, Hermione," Ron added eagerly, just as he always had before. 

"You too, Ron. And thank you for helping us. It means a lot to me, and Severus. He'll never say it though." She smiled, and for the first time in what felt like months, it reached her eyes. 

"We know." Ron had said it, but there was none of the accompanying insults. 

"Harry, what will happen to Garry? He's still in danger," Hermione said, and was immediately concerned by the displeased looks the others passed between them. 

"I'm not sure exactly, but as far as I know, the Fudge family has fled the country now that their son has served his purpose," Harry replied coldly. "Poor kid." 

Hermione nodded. "They don't seem to know what a great little boy they have. I hope things work out for him." With a tired sigh, she smiled. "But that's me just being a worrier, and you have other things to deal with." 

Hugs and kisses were passed around, even to the other Unspeakables in an uncommon display of affection from Hermione. She even surprised herself with that. "Good day, Potter, Weasley, Black, gentlemen," Severus said gravely from the sitting room; Crookshanks was still on his lap. 

They watched the last of the visitors go, Hermione from the door, Severus out the window, and then the door closed. Hermione visibly relaxed and went to sit by Severus. 

"Finally, we're all alone again." 

"A fascinating opportunity." 

"I agree. You know what I'd like to do?" Hermione smiled and took hold of his hand. 

"Whatever I wish?" 

She led him to the sitting room. "You're funny, and wrong. But I don't think it's something you'll object to." Her fingers started to open his robes leisurely. 

Crookshanks jumped off his lap as she started to crowd him out. 

"The laundry? Really, Hermione, that's not necessary." 

"Professor Snape makes a funny." She suddenly yanked at his robes and tore them open. At his upraised eyebrows, she smiled slyly. "When a girl's gotta have it, she's gotta have it now." She kissed him. 

_...smell funny._

Hermione lifted her head and looked around the room. Her vantage point from the floor didn't reveal much, but she couldn't imagine anyone getting through the wards without them knowing. 

_They do it all the time. You'll get used to it._

"Severus, someone's here," she whispered, and pushed his head away form her chest. 

He ignored her efforts. "Pay them no mind." 

"There's someone _here_." 

This time he lifted his head and looked at her. He wore a puzzled expression for a moment, then started to laugh. "My dear, there's no one here who hasn't been here before." 

Harry or Sirius or Susan or... He gestured with just his head to the chair that was behind her. When she looked back, two furry forms were resting next to one another. Crookshanks' eyes were closed, but Kitsune was watching them closely. "It was... I heard _them_?" 

"It's a side effect of being an animagus. Don't worry, you won't hear them chattering all the time. Just every now and then. And it's not all animals; just the ones you have a rapport with." 

"Oh." She just kept staring at the two cats. "This is so weird." 

_Why is she staring at us? Is my fur dirty?_

_Maybe_. Crookshanks began to lick the white ring around Kitsune's neck. 

If you truly find the cats more interesting, then I'll just go and make myself a sandwich," Severus said, and started to get up. 

"No!" she said hurriedly, and held his arm. "It's just weird. Now I'm going to feel self-conscious around them all the time." 

Severus began kissing her neck once again. "You'll get used to it; I have. Though Lorenz tends to chatter on about the most inconsequential things. I have to wonder how I ended up with a Gryffindor owl." 

Hermione was ready to answer back, but was compelled to listen to cats' commentary now. 

_Is she all right? He's on top of her._

_It's how humans mate. They do it all the time._

_So all those times she was screaming, she wasn't hurt? I wasn't sure if I should jump on his head and claw his eyes out._

_No, the screaming's a good thing._

_Oh. Why would she scream if it's good?_

Hermione was aghast, and couldn't focus at all on what she was doing, or rather not doing. 

_I don't know. Humans are just strange._

There was silence, and Hermione figured either the conversation was at an end or her comprehension of them was done for the time being. Finally she could keep her mind firmly on her opportunity to scream as loudly as she wanted. 

_It's not like he's got a barbed penis or anything..._

* * *

Previous 


End file.
